Arabian Flights
by bottled insanity
Summary: Severe AU. Shaking his head to clear away such memories, Tuck pounded an ethereal fist into the sand. He knew that things couldn't have been different...but he wished that they were. DxS TxV CH7
1. Prologue: Diamond in the Rough

**A/N** Finally the mystery DP AU is revealed! Sorry for the punny name, but if they ever made a DP episode that was centered around this kind of thing, you know that it would be called _Arabian Flights_. As I have it planned out, it is eighteen LONG chapters, including prologue and epilogue.

**Disclaimer**: Neither Danny Phantom nor _Aladdin_ belong to me. This story does, though, so plagarize and have your pants sued off.

**Prologue  
Diamond in the Rough**

A cloaked figure waited impatiently in the dark of night, the piercing glow of his eyes barely concealed. The wind kicked up the sand in all directions, whipping it around fast enough to leave any unfortunate passerby with a dangerous burn or blindness, but the man in the cloak felt nothing. He chose not to, so he didn't. He could see the edge of the desert from where he floated, scanning for any signs of activity, for anyone coming his way. No one yet.

He licked his lips slowly in anticipation, his tongue gliding smoothly over his fangs as he continued to watch the horizon. The sandstorm would have made seeing anything difficult, but he had ways around it. In the distance, he spotted the rough outline of a short, squat man, quickly flying out into the storm. He smiled crookedly; this was the man he had been waiting for.

The buffoonish lackey (for that is what he was) flew up beside the cloaked man, a seemingly expensive box in his hands; gold leaflet surrounded the body of the box and its lid held an emerald clasp, as big as a horse's eye. The buffoon's red eyes scanned the area for his emplyer, but to no avail; the cloaked one smirked as he once again became visible. "I assume," he drawled, "that it is in that box?"

"The box ghost, controller of all things square and cubical, has indeed acquired that which you ask of!" the buffoon shouted over the now raging sandstorm. His voice contained a hint of idiocy that allowed the man in the cloak to grin wider; this poor fool really had no idea of what he was being asked to do. But then he would simply be doing the rest of the world a favor. The box ghost was a constant annoyance to everyone who had ever met him.

The ghost carefully opened the box, almost in reverence, to reveal a thick lining of plush red velvet. But nothing else. "You fool!" the cloaked man yelled in rage, his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. "Where is it? Where?"

"Do not yell! It was merely a precaution," the dimwitted ghost replied. The cloaked one raised an eyebrow; perhaps this ghost was smarter than he had let on. The box ghost quickly lifted the invisibility around the object, half of a pocketwatch. The numbers lining the rim of the watch were written in glowing green and the hands were a bloody red. The smooth contours of the gold were sharply interrupted by the jagged lines from where the other half had been torn away. The man in the cloak reached into one of his pockets, withdrawing a similar object that was only slightly smaller than the one held before him in the ornate box.

"Well done." He reached his hand out for the other half, the half that he had been waiting decades to finally attain, before the box ghost ripped the box away from the cloaked man's reach.

"My payment?" The cloaked figure scowled and reached into his other pocket. He pulled out a glowing emerald, one that nearly eclipsed the brightness of the half-moon above them. Giving this precious jewel to the buffoon, he snatched away the other half before the ghost could do anything about it, roughly pushing the halves together.

The cloaked man and the box ghost both watched, entranced, as the pocketwatch began to glow. It hovered about three inches above the cloaked man's hands before shooting off deeper into the desert. He stood stock still for a single moment before he zoomed off towards it, calling to the box ghost behind him. "Follow it, fool!"

It zipped across the sands with the two men following close behind it. The storm continued to rage, but neither felt anything; both were so absorbed in the race that they were oblivious to the exact direction in which they were flying. The chase finally ended at a large sand dune where the pocketwatch dove into the sand, much to the chagrin of the box ghost.

"BEWARE THE WRATH OF THE BOX GHOST!" he bellowed. "We race across the desert for THIS?"

"Patience," snapped the cloaked man as he eyed the dune. He knew what would happen; he had been expecting it. His eyes widened slightly as the two halves resurfaced on opposite sides of the dune. The earth shook as a giant circle arose from the sand; roman numerals, twelve of them, were strategically placed around the circle so as to resemble a clock. Where a large VI should have been was a doorway, an entrance. The cloaked man smirked crookedly. This was it.

He glanced over at the slackjawed box ghost. "The Sands of Time," he whispered, watching the ghost's expression change to one of more confusion than usual.

"That is a legend," the ghost replied, obviously not believing his own words. He merely gazed at the giant clock, his mouth still open and his eyes wider than usual.

"After all my years of searching," the cloaked man hoarsely whispered to himself, low enough that the buffoon could not hear his words. "I've finally found it." Turning to the box ghost, he said, "Remember what you are here to do. You know what I require; the rest is yours."

The box ghost nodded and hesitantly floated forward toward the entrance of the giant clock. He peered into the entrance, seeing a golden reflection. _Probably from all of the boxed treasures_, he thought greedily.

As he floated his head in through the entranceway, it began to move, seeming rather like a large mouth. "_Who dares enter the Sands of Time?_" it boomed, the II and the X on its face glowing like two jaded emerald eyes.

The box ghost simply trembled for a moment before regaining his senses. "I am the BOX GHOST!" he bellowed, sounding like the fool he was. "Master of all things square and cubical!" In truth, he was acting much braver than he felt. The ghost had never felt at ease with something so round; he had never admitted this to anyone, but he was actually afraid of inanimate objects that were not square. Especially when they became inexplicably animate.

Two and ten glared at the ghost, narrowing before the clock spoke again. "_Know this. Only one may enter here, a specter whose worth lies within his kindhearted soul. He knows no malevolence; instead, he seeks to help others. A true diamond in the rough._"

The box ghost glanced worriedly back at his employer, who merely hissed, "What are you waiting for, fool?" The ghost gulped and ventured towards the gaping doorway. He made no sound as he glided across the sand, the storm finally having quieted down. The specter paused at the entryway, looking down to see a stairway forming in the sand. _Then it is me!_ he thought gleefully as he floated happily into the clock.

An earsplitting shriek filled the air as the clock collapsed upon itself, taking the box ghost with it. The cloaked man could see the green aura around the dissolving clock; the box ghost was now little more than a pile of ashes. The sand settled into a dune once more, the halves once more broken on either side of it; the cloaked man simply grinned a twisted smile. "Well that takes care of one problem."

Obviously, he couldn't enter it himself; the cloaked figure knew that he was far too malevolent to ever be considered worthy enough to enter the Sands of Time. "Only one may enter here," he mused quietly, not noticing the sandstorm kicking up again. "A diamond in the rough."


	2. Bada'a

**A/N** I love this story, so I decided to write and put out this chapter as soon as I could. Just so you all know, I've changed some names, added some people, and left some names alone. Why? Because this AU version of Amity is set as Aladdin's Arabia (despite the fact that the original version of the tale is set in China, but whatever). I got the definitions of all the names from www. baby names world. com (no spaces). Also, I use a bit of Arabic in this chapter and, likely, subsequent chapters as well. I will include all Arabic translations, name changes, and name translations down at the bottom just so no one gets confused by the difference between the A/Ns. I'd like to thank my four reviewers to whom I am quite thankful. I love you all so dearly.

**Disclaimer:** Danny Phantom, Aladdin, and the Arabic language are obviously not mine.

**Chatper One  
****Bada'a**

The Phantom of the sultanate of Amity - he wasn't famous, per se, but his work was very well known among certain crowds. Very few people knew of him, or, rather, very few people attributed his work to him; he was the single most elusive criminal in the entire kingdom, mostly because he attracted very little attention. How can anyone make this claim? Simple - he had been operating for years, but the palace guard had yet to capture him. It was an enigma: how could one person fly so far under the radar that they could steal so much every day without attracting any attention for over three years?

"Stop! Thief!"

Phantom's head turned at the sound of the shopkeeper's shouts. He knew for a fact that the man hadn't actually _seen_ him, probably just noticing that his merchandise was missing, so he quickly stashed his stolen goods - three apples, a loaf of bread, and a melon - inside his large satchel before calmly walking away. No need for anyone to see the stolen goods and stop him from getting home. Besides, he had too much that he needed to pick up before he left the marketplace.

He was one lucky kid; his looks allowed him to blend in to the crowd superbly. Rarely was he ever stopped, commented on, or even acknowledged. His only real defining trait was his blue eyes, which he always managed to keep averted. If anyone ever mentioned seeing a blue-eyed boy, then he might be in trouble. He was also very good at fleeing the scene of a crime without drawing any unnecessary attention to himself.

Mentally, he took stock of his his stolen goods once more and tried to judge what else he might need. _Hmmm, probably something to drink. Wine or water, I guess. Some meat if I can find any. _He ran his hand through his black-as-oil hair. _That's still running it a little thin, though, isn't it?_

The marketplace was crowded, as always. Housewives and children, as well as the occasional slave, were humming about, looking at or buying everything that the merchants had to sell. Giant baubles, fruits, spices, furniture, rugs, and fresh fish from the nearest saltwater wharf filled Phantom's line of vision, but he didn't let it bother him. After such a long time, he knew exactly where everything was, where everyone lived, and where the guards were stationed.

He walked around the fire-breather (he was going to burn his throat one of these days) and turned toward Atiq's wine booth. Atiq himself was speaking with a woman with three young children. "Yes, this special blood wine will lasts you weeks and keep your children's stomachs full." _Perfect._

Quickly, the Phantom strolled up to Atiq's and, while he was certain that Atiq was occupied with the woman before him, slyly picked up a small cask of the blood wine and slipped it into his satchel before simply walking off.

Unfortunately, Phantom had not counted on the guard making their rounds so early and found himself face to face with one of the elite guards. _Oh, shit._

It was certainly a god thing that Phantom could think on the spot. "Oh, hello, ma'am," he said smoothly, masking any nervousness that he felt. "Is there something I can help you with?"

It must not have been the right thing to say as she simply narrowed her dark green eyes at him. "Do you think I didn't see that?" she asked angrily, one hand planted on her hip dangerously close to her sword. "I will never understand why people like you steal from these honest, hardworking men."

An eye brow rose at that. "Honest and hardworking?" he asked bemusedly, his eyes darting about to see the closest means of escape. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you must not know any of these merchants at all."

He saw her right eye twitch before her left hand gripped the hilt of her sword. "I know enough to see that they work for their money while you steal away their profits. _Phantom_."

Phantom's face blanched. _How...how does she know? _And suddenly he saw his salvation. "Well it's been nice chatting," he said, starting to walk through the crowd, "but I'm afraid I must be off. Ta ta!" He ducked behind the meat stand, making sure to snag a small portion, before leaping over a small flock of sheep crossing the road.

"Guards! After him!" he heard the woman call, but he was thirty yards away from the sheep by then. It'd take awhile for the guards to get across the sheep and even then they wouldn't know which direction he went. Still, he took the hard way to keep them off his trail, climbing up a hanging pile of drying clothes to hoist himself up onto the roof of one of the small clay houses lining the road. He leapt three roofs over before ducking down a small alleyway, turning right by a stack of barrels.

After a nearly impossible maze of lefts and rights, twists and turns, Phantom finally emerged in a small clearing between three three-story buildings, all abandoned. Off to the side was a rather large lean-to against the sides of two buildings next to a set of steps. As no one owned any of these buildings, Phantom took it upon himself to claim the area for his own use.

He placed the food under the lean-to alongside the small rations he already had set aside before he realized that he really didn't have enough. _Shit, I have to go back, don't I? That's not gonna be pretty, what with the guard waiting to get me and all._ But he knew that he had to, so he doubled back without alerting anyone to his presence.

By the time he returned to the marketplace, Phantom was more than a little bit tired. After leaping over rooftops for the better part of an hour, his legs were feeling sore. Still, he had the common sense to change his clothes and snag a different satchel, this one a lighter shade of brown.

He went back to the meat stand, knowing that he needed more than the square inch slab he'd already stolen. Waiting until the merchant was occupied, he slipped in half a blood pheasant before starting to walk toward the bread booth.

Before he could take the second loaf of bread, Phantom felt someone angrily grab him by the wrist and turn him around. There stood the guard from before, her sword unsheathed. "You must be dumber than I thought if you came back knowing I'd be here waiting."

Still Phantom kept his eyes carefully diverted, not allowing her to glimpse his blue from beyond his bangs. "Do we really need to fight? I steal food, not jewelry or anything. Can't eat jewelry, so it's useless."

"Stealing is stealing, _Phantom_. It will always be wrong." And with that, she swung her sword in a large arc toward his head. Phantom managed to back away before his head and neck were forcibly separated, but caught the edge of her sword right under his left eye.

He put his hand to his face and drew blood, but he could tell that the cut wasn't very deep. He'd be a hell of a lot more light-headed if it was serious. _I shouldn't have come back_, he thought before breaking out into a sprint. _But they need the food and count on me to get it. I had to._

This time, there were no sheep to safely flee across. Instead, Phantom found himself racing across the marketplace with the guard and her sword only a few yards behind. He couldn't even run as fast as he wanted, thanks to his damn habit of leaping over rooftops. Panting in time to his heartbeat, Phantom turned a sharp left before he took a sharp right, making sure to be right under one of the piles of laundry that dangled from the windows. Thinking quickly, he pulled one down and covered his head and face with a scarf and veil. He wrapped one of the shawls around his shoulders and voila, he was a new man...or, rather, woman.

He watched as the guard looked both ways, not seeing him to her left or her right, before she decided to go to the left. He breathed a sigh before discarding his costume and continuing home.

When he got back, he deposited the meat and bread by the other rations in the lean-to before climbing up the stairs. His legs were damn sore, but he had something he had to do first.

The building was dilapidated, that was certain, what with the bits and pieces of glass embedded in the floors and the ripped drapes across every window, but it was what he'd learned to call his home. On the first floor, he turned to his left and stood outside of one of the draped doorways. He could hear her melodic voice drifting out into the hallway as she told a story.

"And Ali heard the biggest of the thieves say 'Eftah Simsim' before the entire cave wall opened magically. And inside the cave was the most treasure Ali had seen in his entire life! Gold and silver, diamonds and rubies, sapphires and emeralds; it was beautiful to behold." Phantom smiled to himself; his sister really had a way with the children. He pulled aside the small tattered curtain and stepped through the doorway.

About twelve children sat at Jazz's feet, all enthralled by her story of Ali Baba, the poor woodcutter, and the forty thieves. Jazz herself had her unusual red hair tied back in a leather hair thong to keep it out of her face. She wore rags, like the rest of the children and Phantom himself, but they were all fairly clean and fairly happy. She looked up into the face of her younger brother and broke out into a smile. "Danny, would you like to join us?"

Danny grinned weakly back at his sister, noticing that the children had all shifted their attention to him. "No, thanks, I need to rest a bit. I just wanted to tell you that the food is down in the shelter before I went to rest." He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down at Salma, one of the youngest of his wards. His grin plastered on his face, he knelt down next to her.

"Danny?" she asked, her voice light and breathy as a six year old's voice should be, "what happened to your face?" She touched his cheek and, when she pulled her hand away, a bit of his own blood came off on her palm, staining her hand a nasty shade of red.

"It's nothing, Salma," he said gently, wiping the blood onto his already dirty rags. "I just got a little hurt by one of the guards in the marketplace."

"I can help clean that, Danny," Salim, Salma's older brother, offered. He puffed out his chest in all his twelve year old glory. "There's a little bit of water left in the bottle." The rest of the children quickly chimed in that they wouldn't mind helping, either. Danny shot a pleading look at Jazz, who quickly reigned them all in, saying that they should eat first. She told Fazil to gather some wood to burn so that she could cook the meat and hurriedly ushered everyone else down the stairs before shooting a look at Danny that clearly said "_You're not getting out of this_."

Going up another flight of stairs and cursing his weakened legs, Danny lay down before the small ledge in front of the "window"; in reality, a large part of the wall had simply fallen out two years earlier for some reason or another, but it let a good amount of light in the room and left a decent view of the palace. He quickly wiped the rest of the blood off his cheek and onto the small blanket spread on the ground before covering himself with it. He looked out the window to see the purples, pinks, and golds splayed out across the sky, giving the palace a sort of majestic serenity. The large spires that made up the body of the castle rose from the ground like sunflowers, pointing towards the setting sun.

_Someday_, Danny thought before slipping off into sleep. _Someday._

- - - - - - -

"Princess." A servant girl by the name of Aamina appeared in the princess's chambers, her eyes wandering over the expansive room. The ceiling was over twenty feet high and the circular chamber was about thirty feet across in length. A large sheer purple drape covered the bed area, giving it a bit of a secluded air, while dark blue drapes hung from the ceiling. The walls themselves were painted a rich plum with gold and red accents, attributing to the wealth of her family. On the other side of the chamber was a large set of double doors, presently open, that opened out onto the princess's expansive private balcony. Poor Aamina felt lost in the large, richly furnished room, yet again tried to find her mistress. "Princess, are you in here?"

After a moment of two of silence, the purple drape around the princess's bed rippled slightly as the princess herself struggled to oust herself from the curtain. Her head poked out, a look of weary annoyance upon her features. Her violet eyes, the same color as the drape itself, seemed to bore into Aamina's, scaring the girl like no other. Imagine her surprise when the princess called to her in a kind tone, saying, "Yes, Aamina?"

Princess Samantha of the sultanate of Amity was not an average princess. She was not one to sit around on a vast golden throne while others worked to do her bidding, nor was she the type of girl to simply groom herself all day. Samantha made a point to know as many of her servants' names as possible with the belief that servants are people and deserve to be treated with equal respect as any other human being. In this day and age, such a thought was certainly uncommon, especially among the ruling crowd.

"Uh." Aamina was in slight shock that the princess actually knew her name - her parents certainly didn't care, after all - before she realized that she actually had a message to relay. "Your parents, the Sultan and Queen, wish to see you in the throne room."

Samantha snorted in a very un-princess-ly way before replying, "Do you know what they need me for this time? If it's nothing important or even if it's something I might not want to leave my room for, please feel free to tell me now."

Aamina furrowed her brow. "I apologize, princess, but they do not trust me with such matters. Perhaps it is best if you just - "

"Yeah, I'd better go," Samantha interrupted, already on her way out. Her silver and amethyst tiara, which she loved but hated being forced to wear, sparkled in the sunlight that filtered through her balcony door. Before she actually left the room, she turned back with a smile and said, "Thank you, Aamina, for giving me that message." And with that, she was gone.

Samantha walked through the maze of hallways that was the palace, thinking to herself the entire time about how much room she and her family wasted. _There are at least two hundred rooms that are rarely used, so why do we need the extra space? _She sighed in discontent as she walked past hall after unused hall. _Honestly, there are others who probably need the space more than we do._

Finally, after successfully navigating the palace, Samantha made it into the throne room. The entire room was white marble, from the ceiling to the columns right down to the shining floor beneath her feet. Even her parents' thrones were carved into the mountain of marble, but they, unlike the rest of the hall, were also ornamented in unnecessary amounts of gold leaf and jewels. They were not forced to endure sitting on uncomfortable marble all day, however; instead, richly threaded pillows cushioned them whilst they sat.

Her parents alone were less than intimidating. Their clothes and attitude exuded royalty, but Samantha had never once felt afraid of them, not even when they were using their "threatening" tones. Perhaps it was because they were her parents that she never feared them, or, rather, it was because of their power and wealth that everyone else did.

"You rang?" she drawled. She never had liked her parents policy regarding the lives of other human beings, always treating them like a speck of dirt on an otherwise immaculate white robe - mere annoyances worth of little notice, if that. In fact, she'd always found this disgusting. No one should be above anyone else. _Says the princess_, her mind jeered.

Her parents merely scowled their disapproval of her attitude and attire. "Now, Samantha," her mother started in her chipper tone (her mother couldn't sound menacing if she tried), "there is no need to take that attitude with us."

"Yes," a voice from the right sounded. Out from behind the sultan's throne stepped the grand vizier, Vlad. The princess would never understand how he came to be her father's most trusted advisor; he seemed like the type to be able to lie at the drop of a hat. "Princess, perhaps you had better pay your father, Sultan es-Selatin Jeremy al-Aziz ibn Mubarak al-Amity, and your mother more respect."

_Of course_, she spat angrily in her head, _he glorifies my father and leaves my mother out of the prestigious name-bearing honorifics_. "I know my parents' names, Vlad," she replied, the venom nearly tangible in her voice. Turning to her father, she asked in a sickeningly polite voice, "You sent for me, father?"

"Yes. Samantha," he cast a weary look at her mother, "Vlad has brought something to our attention that needs to be looked at and dealt with quickly."

"Okay," Sam said, now wearing a puzzled look as she looked between her father and his most trusted advisor. Her parents _never _talked about the affairs of state with her; she had too many of her own opinions on the matter for them to stand. "But what does that have to do with me?"

The room seemed to be holding its breath for a moment or two. No one dared speak and break the silence. At least, until Vlad cleared his throat.

"Princess Samantha," he began, keeping in his oily smile as best he could. "It seems that I have recently come upon some documents, previously lost to the world, that have some very interesting laws written upon them. Laws," he said with a hidden glare directed at Samantha that she caught all too well, "that have to do with the situation we find ourselves in."

_We?_ Samantha wanted to ask. That, and she wanted to remind everyone that she detested her given name and would much prefer to be called Sam. Instead, she settled for, "Situation? What situation do _we_ find ourselves in?"

The corners of Vlad's mouth tilted upward before the sultan began to speak. "The situation, perplexing as it is, is that your mother and I have yet to bear a rightful heir to the throne."

"Excuse me?" Sam's eyes darkened at their words. _Am I not a rightful heir because I'm a _girl? _Ooh, fear the female, she'll wreck the kingdom worse than it is!_ Unfortunately, her feminist ideas were a bit ahead of their times and that was _exactly_ the situation that her parents were referring to. Yet Sam dignified their statement with one of her own. "I can rule. I can rule a hell of a lot better than some son you've yet to bear."

"We do not doubt that, Samantha" _Sam. SAM! Is that too much to ask?_ "But the law clearly states that their must be _a_ male ruler, whether you like it or not, dear."

"So then what," Sam asked, each word carefully chewed and controlled, "do you plan to do to rectify the...situation?"

Again, Vlad deemed it necessary to cut in. "You see, the law stipulates that, in the case of there being no true male heir while there is a princess, then the princess must _marry a prince_ before her seventeenth birthday to secure the throne with a male ruler by her side."

Sam had stopped listening at "before her seventeenth birthday." Her mind was possessed, she was sure of it, because Vlad did not just say what she thought she heard him say. Because her seventeenth birthday was a little more than a month away. She didn't even know any princes, let alone have her pick of who to marry. Like hell did she want to make some political marriage; she fully intended on securing her happiness before the throne, unlike her parents. Yet she couldn't get a single word of her well-phrased rant past her lips. The only thing she could manage to say was an outraged "WHAT?"

"Dear," her mother began in attempts to pacify her implacable daughter, "it really is for the best, you know. We can fill the palace will all sorts of suitors from far and wide. Won't that be exciting?"

Sam could only shake her head vacantly as her mouth was not cooperating with her at the moment. "No," she finally rasped out. "No, mother, that would not be exciting at all." Still in shock, she turned to her father. "Father, can't you change the law or something? You are the sultan; surely you can't make me go through with this ridiculous..._marriage_."

"No, Samantha," the sultan said firmly, stubbornness set in his eye. "This marriage will be good for you and it simply would not do to have you running the country without a sultan behind you."

"And if you refuse," Vlad simpered, his greasy smirk set upon his face, "the sultanate would go to the next in line. And seeing as neither the queen nor the sultan has any brothers or sisters...Oh!" he exclaimed in false surprise. "Why, that would be me!"

_Alright, Sam, forget your own happiness_, she thought to herself. _There is absolutely no way that I would _ever_ let the kingdom go to _him_; he'd kill all the male children or something insane like that. I have a responsibility to these people._ Grimacing, Sam turned to her mother and asked with resignation apparent in her voice, "Would the wedding have to be the day I turn seventeen or could I just be engaged by then?"

Tuning out the rest of the conversation as she really didn't want to know the answer to a single question that she asked, Sam waited until her father excused her and then hurriedly made her way back to her chambers. She could not believe that she had just signed away her life to one of complete and utter despair. For that's what it would be, after all, being married to some stuck up prince who would expolit the people and treat her like an object. Oh, yes, she was _so_ looking forward to it.

Taking the fast route, Sam quickly found herself at her chambers once more. Tearing the curtain to the side, she flopped on her bed in a very un-princess-y way. But she didn't cry. No, she refused to give anyone that sort of satisfaction. Instead, she plotted. Plotting, unlike crying, could actually be useful.

_If my own parents are giving me over to a life of doom and despair, _she thought to herself, _why can't I just take matters into my own hands? Maybe I can just leave. But then Vlad gets the kingdom._ She sat up striaght. _You know what? I don't care anymore. Call it selfishness, but I can't do that to myself. I need to get out; if nothing more, I need a taste of freedom before I'm forced into the shackles of an unhappy marriage_. And with that, she began to plan.

- - - - - - -

"A 'diamond in the rough,' eh?" he hissed, his forked tongue coming out to trace his fangs. He could taste the coppery blood on his lips before he actually broke the skin. "A diamond in the rough."

He whistled three times, his red eyes borring into the wall beside him. Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, three ghastly apparations appeared, one by one. One, a tall, rugged rabbit with two heads. One, a bear with four strong, lean arms. One, a fox fused with a beaver, its fluffly flat tail beating angrily against the floor.

The blue one waited until they were all assembled before speaking. "This spectral 'diamond in the rough,' " he began, an oily smile slipping onto his visage. "I want you to sniff him out, bring him back to me. Report back in two nights." With a wave of his hand, they flew through the wall once more, seeking out this ghost of legend. Could he really be found?

_If he can be found_, the blue specter found himself thinking, _then I will be the one to find him_.

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Bada'a_ - Arabic for "to begin"

_Atiq_ - Arabic for "ancient; free man"

_Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves_ - a story from 1001 Arabian Nights

_Ali_ - Arabic for "noble, exalted, sublime, elevated"

_Eftah Simsim_ - Arabic for "open sesame"

_Jazz_ - short for _Jazmine_, Persian for "jasmine"

_Danny_ - short for _Daniel_, Hebrew for "God is my judge"

_Salma_ - Arabic for "peaceful, safe"

_Salim_ - Arabic for "secure"

_Fazil_ - Arabic for "excellent"

_Aamina_ - Arabic for "safe, safety"

_Samantha_ - Aramaic for "listener"

_Vlad_ - Russian for "rule"

_Sultan es-Selatin_ - Arabic for "Sultan of Sultans" (i.e. "king of kings")

_Jeremy al-Aziz ibn Mubarak al-Amity_ - Arabic for "Jeremy, the powerful, son of Mubarak of Amity"

_Jeremy_ - Hebrew for "God will raise up"

_Mubarak_ - Arabic for "fortunate, blessed"


	3. Haraba

**A/N** I just want to let you all know that this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any story ever. Just throwing that out there. Oh, and for some reason, I felt like making Danny be Phantom when he's human. And to forestall any possible questions on the matter, yes, he is human. Fully human. Now.

15 reviews in 10 days - wow! I'd like to thank my wonderful reviewers, namely YOUR LOVING SISTER (who, yes, is actually my loving sister), Ummari the Cranky (awesome awesome name), CommonSenseless24, kpfan72491, pearl84, Nubecula, bloodmoon13, jellyb33n, secret spy guy, FunkyFish1991, Me-agaisnt-the-world, and AmethystOcean. You guys really don't know how much I appreciate these reviews.

Also, props to whoever gets the oh-so-obvious Monty Python reference.

**Disclaimer:** Danny Phantom is mine. Er, wait, no, he's not.

**Chapter Two  
Haraba**

Two days. Two long days of planning, plotting, gathering, and waiting. But now it was nearly time.

Samantha stood on her balcony up against the wall, willing time to fly faster. Her plan could not be put in motion until an hour before dawn the next day for fear of capture and, subsequently, failure. And failure was simply not an option; this plan had to go off without a hitch.

During the past two days, she had rarely left the confines of her room, venturing out only when she had to eat, bathe, or gather supplies. Instead, she slept during the day and watched the patterns of the guards inside the castle walls at night. She knew from the beginning that her only chance of success lay under the cover of night. It only took two nights to realize the flaw in the guards' patrol: an hour before sunrise, the guards would meet on the other side of the palace for a half hour before coming back. And that, of course, would be when Sam would take her chance to escape.

She had prepared quite thoroughly for her excursion; Aamina had, at her request, brought her some darker clothing so that she could slip out less noticeably. It was also common wear so that she would be able to walk the streets without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. The only thing Sam decided to bring with her from the palace was her tiara, just in case she found it necessary to reveal her identity. It wasn't likely, but if she somehow got in a bad situation, she could show the guards her true identity and have them escort her safely back to the palace.

Right now, she was dressed in her common wear, consisting of a dark brown jilbab that went to her ankles, a pair of loose-fitting black pants for mobility underneath the jilbab, a pair of worn tan sandals, and a dark hijab that could be pulled up to cover her mouth and, more importantly, her tiara. She made certain that it was secure; after all, she didn't want it falling down and exposing her identity.

Only a few more minutes before the guards would leave. The princess had also asked Aamina to secure some rope for her, about thirty yards. Of course, Sam did not tell Aamina what these items were for; she could neither trust Aamina not to tell her parents nor could she allow her parents to fault Aamina with her escape. The rope would reach down Sam's balcony into the palace gardens.

Sam checked the view from the balcony again and saw that the guards were getting ready to leave. _Perfect_. She quietly moved toward the edge f her balcony and watched their journey to the other side of the palace before acting. Quickly, she wound the rope between five different posts on the balcony for stability; she wasn't completely how sure of how strong they were or if they could hold her. She looked down, making sure that the rope did indeed touch the ground before tying a knot in the rope. She wound the rope back up and tied knots in it at about every yard or so, in case she started to slip, and lowered it down once more. It seemed like it touched, or was very near touching, the ground, so Sam took a deep breath and dropped down.

It was terrifying to find herself swaying thirty yards above the ground. Sam just reminded herself of her reasons for leaving and of the fact that she couldn't slip before continuing. She refused to look down; she knew her limitations and knew that she would likely lose her lunch and dinner if she so much as glanced at the ground. Instead, she looked up, seeing that she was about ten yards away from her balcony. Good. That meant only twenty yards to go.

After another eight minutes and ten yards, Sam's hands were sore. The rope wasn't exactly smooth and was beginning to cut into her palms. Looking up again, she saw that she had left a small trail of blood against the rope. She resisted the urge to look at one of her hands and continued downward.

Soon enough, she reached the end of the rope. Unfortunately, she had miscalculated how high off the ground she was; instead of touching the ground, the rope was about three yards in the air. Sam shut her eyes momentarily and grimaced. _I'm going to break something, I can feel it_. She allowed her feet to dangle as she lowered herself to the final knot, taking a deep breath before letting go.

The fall wasn't quite as bad as she had expected. She landed on one foot before falling to her side, hitting her hip bone on the stone pathway. She winced, rubbing her sore, and likely bruised, hip before running over to the palace wall. The cool white stone looked ethereal in the moonlight and the wall itself seemed to be twice as tall as usual.

Now she didn't have much time. Sam scanned the darkened outline of the wall before she found the spot. Two trees blended as one at the top of the wall - one from inside the palace walls and one from the city. Sam took a running jump and latched onto the bottommost branch. Looking up at the moon through the branches and leaves, Sam found a foothold in the tree and began her climb.

At the top of the wall, she stood on the narrow ledge and looked out at the vast city before her. It certainly wasn't much to look at, but it was something she'd never known before. To Sam, it was beautiful because of what it represented: her freedom. She could see far and wide, beyond the city, past the river, to where the mountains kissed the sky.

Sam quickly lunged for the other tree and climbed down, eager to get out of the palace and the guards' jurisdiction. "Wow," she breathed. _I just escaped. I'm free._

The first rays of the sun began to peek over the mountain peaks, ushering Sam into a new day and a new world. The houses closest to the palace wall seemed to be in the best condition: homes of clay and stone built at least three stories high showed that only the richest lived so near to the palace. Still, Sam noticed, none of the architecture was nearly as ornate as the palace beyond the walls.

She continued to walk along the worn dirt path as she was met with another set of houses. These had stone foundations, but the walls and rooftops were all sturdy clay. Laundry hung from the windowsills from house to house and the doors were made of plain, undecorated wood. _The further the house is from the palace walls_, Sam realized, _the further they are from the wealth_. She briefly wondered what it must be like toward the outskirts of the city.

She walked along a maze-like system of roads, most narrower than the hallways of the palace, until she reached a booming marketplace. By now, the sun had fully risen above the mountains and was beating down on the people along the street, but no one seemed to mind the heat. All sorts of booths and stands were set up with goods for the women to purchase. Small baubles, fruits, spices, furniture, rugs, and fresh fish from the nearest saltwater wharf met Sam's eye as she looked around the market.

_This is so different from what I expected_. Indeed, Sam had imagined a rather humdrum life outside the palace, one as humdrum as the life inside the palace. But the city was bursting with color, sounds, and scents. Sam was immediately drawn to the dates at the booth to her right. A rather large tray was filled with red, orange, and yellow dates. Next to it was a tray of brown, roasted dates. That was the tray that had Sam captured in the aroma. She could smell the salt and cinnamon, an odd combination, but one that produced a heavenly aroma.

Next, she headed to the jewelry stand. It wasn't as ornate or varied as the jewelry of the rich, but that was to be expected. The ways the craftsman managed to arrange the jewels was what captured her eye; never would she have thought to arrange a ring like the one she saw before her. A semi-large topaz stone was surrounded by smaller stones that faded the color, ending with a circle of rubies around the outside. The effect was astonishing; with the sun's rays shining down upon it, it looked like a sunset gleaming in the sky.

Again, she hadn't expected much liveliness outside of the palace, so she was just as surprised to see the street performers.

One was a fire eater; he would dip a long, straight stick in wine, light it aflame, and swallow. Sam thought it was staged somehow, but it appeared as though there was no water to extinguish it or anything. Still, she had to wonder how he didn't catch himself on fire or at least burn his throat.

Next to the fire eater was a juggler. He had members of the audience throwing balls at him from all directions, but he would simply turn without missing a beat and add them to the balls he was juggling. He also did tricks, having one go between his legs and another behind his back. Sam knew how to juggle a bit from watching the guards entertain themselves below her balcony, but she could only manage three balls at a time.

Seated a bit away from the juggler and fire eater was a busker. He sat cross legged on the dirt road with a oud in his lap, plucking merrily at the strings as he sang along. The tune was somewhat familiar, but still Sam could not place it. She saw him pass around a tray and watched as others who enjoyed his performance put coins into the tray. When the tray reached her, Sam politely sent it to the next person without contributing; she had forgotten to bring money.

What Sam did not realize was that, as she was watching the street performers, someone was watching her.

Perched on a rooftop and looking down at the market below him was Danny. He had decided to come early that morning, not wanting to run into the guard. He'd managed to escape their notice for the past two days at his regular time, but he didn't want to push his luck. Instead, he rose two hours earlier and headed for the market.

But now he was rather perplexed. He knew all of the women, children, merchants, and slaves that visited the market by sight (being "invisible" has its advantages, after all), but here was a girl he had never seen before. True, he only saw her from behind, but he could tell that the cloth in her jilbab was not the kind that could be purchased at the market. It looked slightly richer, thicker. At first, he assumed that she must be the daughter of one of the merchants, but no merchant would intentionally allow his daughter to wander like she did. Nor would a merchant's daughter want to wander like she did, as though she'd never seen a marketplace before.

He watched as she went to the date stand, sniffing the air as though she'd never had a roasted date before. He then saw her go over to the jewelry both and look at one of the cheaper rings that the man sold without buying. _Hmmm_, he thought as she wandered to the fire eater. _She must not have much money_.

Danny was still trying to figure out the mystery of who this girl could be when she turned around to go see the musician. He thought it was a trick of the light, but the longer he looked, the more convinced he was that he was seeing correctly. The girl had the most startling shade of eyes he had ever seen, a beautiful amethyst. Such eyes, like his own, were very much a rarity and he found himself staring at her from his rooftop, completely forgetting that he had something to do.

_Who _is _she?_ he asked himself again. _Those eyes...I know I would remember those if I had seen them before. And set in that face..._

He snapped out of his trance when she turned her back to him to see the rugs. Shaking his head, he climbed down the other side of the building and headed to the market to complete his task for the day and venture home. Conveniently, he decided to go to the fruit stand, the one next to the merchant with the rugs, first.

Danny struggled to stay focused with such a girl next to him, but he forced himself to pay attention to the task at hand. He managed to grab five apples and two bananas before his attention was diverted. Turning around, he found that he couldn't see the girl. _She must have gone to another stand_.

A crash sounded from a few booths over, likely the vase stand. Danny peered through the crowd and saw the girl standing next to the merchant, her eyes wide in horror and her hand pressed against her mouth. "I-I am so sorry," she stuttered. "I just tripped and - "

"You had better be able to pay for that." The merchant was rightly angry; half of his merchandise had just been destroyed. _But that's not fair_, Danny thought to himself. _It was an accident_.

His attention was drawn back to the girl as he saw her squirm. "No," she finally said. The merchant, a mad look on his face, grabbed the protesting woman by the wrist and pinned it against the table.

Danny quickly darted through the crowd before the man could get his dagger. Still careful to keep his eyes averted, he ran, shoulder first, into the merchant, successfully knocking him away from the terrified girl in front of him. Danny grabbed her wrist and, before the guards could get to the scene of the crime, darted toward an empty alleyway.

He dragged the girl through a seemingly endless amount of twists and turns before he dropped her wrist and leaned up against one of the surrounding walls. "You okay?" he panted. He'd never run so fast before in his life, or at least he never felt quite this tired from running before. Perhaps it was the girl he was dragging along with him that made him use up more energy. Danny looked over to see her with an angry glower on her face as though he'd done something wrong. Add that to her flush from the running and she had a rather scary effect.

"Am I okay?" she seethed. "Am I okay? No. No, I'm not. I'm alive and I have my hand, yeah, but I just as easily might not right now." She had a look on her face that melded together so many emotions that Danny felt overwhelmed. Most of all, she seemed shocked. In a smaller voice, but with the same conviction as before, she continued, "You didn't need to help me back there."

Danny simply gave her an incredulous stare. _Who the hell _is_ this girl? _"Yeah, I kind of did," he explained in an amused voice. "Or else you'd be short one hand."

The girl slammed her eyes shut and took a deep breath from her nose, seemingly calming herself. "I came here," she said in a contained voice, one that indicated that she was not at all calm, "to live my own life, make my own mistakes. If that were to mean losing a hand for being a clumsy idiot, then so be it."

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed. "I'm clumsy sometimes, but that doesn't mean I deserve to lose life and limb because of it." He took a step towards her as she opened her eyes. _Those eyes..._"Sometimes your accidents are just that - accidents."

She was silent for a moment, turning his words over in her mind. "That's true," she hesitantly replied.

Danny cracked a grin before reaching an arm behind his head to rub his neck in one of his own trademarked nervous behaviors. "So, uh, who're you?"

The girl looked surprised at his question. "My name?" She sounded surprised, too. "Tamma," she replied. "My name is Tamma. And you are?"

His grin widened, morphing into a rather arrogant smirk. "I am known by many names," he replied cheekily, "but you, my dear, can call me Phantom."

Tamma cocked an eyebrow at him. "Phantom?" she asked, a wry grin on her face. "Why? Because the names 'ghost' and 'specter' were taken?"

Danny rolled his eyes. This was a funny one. "Ha ha," he said dryly. "That was so incredibly funny. But no, it's a nickname because I'm so talented in my profession."

"And what, pray tell, might that profession be?"

"See, if I tell you, I'd have to kill you," Danny winked. "But in all seriousness, I am someone who creatively uses the resources around them in order to sustain their life and the lives of those around them, thereby bettering the community at large." _Way to get around that little issue._

"So, basically, you're a thief." _Or not._

"Uh...So, do you have anywhere to stay?"

Sam smiled. _This Phantom guy is definitely a character, I'll give him that_. "No, actually. I was, uh, planning on staying with some relatives before I realized that I have no idea where they actually live."

Phantom looked up to the sky and tapped his chin in thought. "Hmmm," he hummed. "Well, as I see it we have two options. One," he gestured with his pointer finger, "you could tell me your relatives' names, I could tell you I don't know where they live, and we go on to option two." By now, his smirk was back at full force. "Two, we could skip option one and I could tell you that I have space for one more at my home."

"Hmmm." Sam imitated him, putting a finger to her chin. "While option one is certainly tempting, I'd have to go with option two."

"Good," he said, walking toward a cluster of three buildings. "Because we're already here." For the first time since he dragged her away from that merchant, he looked straight into her eyes instead of looking at the ground. He had the most shockingly blue eyes she had ever seen. It was like looking into a pool of water, they were so clear. She had to give pause for a moment as she just stared into his eyes; he seemed to be doing much the same.

"SALAAAAAAAAAAAM!" The spell was broken by a little girl who came up behind Phantom and jumped on his back. Phantom lurched forward a bit before he regained his stability and hoked his arms under the girl's legs. "PIGGYBACK!" she cried.

Phantom chuckled. "Hello to you, too, Salma." He glanced over at Sam before setting the girl down on the ground, forcibly unclasping her hands from around his neck. Sam couldn't help but smile at the scene; it was one of the reasons she'd always wanted an older sibling. "Salma, this is Tamma. She's going to be staying with us for a while. Oh, and..." Phantom whispered something in Salma's ear, making the child's dark eyes wide. As soon as he was done whispering, he said, "And make sure the other kids and Jazz all remember, okay?"

Salma nodded her head enthusiastically before turning to Sam. She smiled shyly, making Sam raise an eyebrow slightly. _She can be shy?_ "S'laam," she said in a much quieter and breathy voice, watching her foot trace a wide arc in the dirt and sand. She looked up for a moment, her dark eyes big. "Can I call you Tam?"

Now it was Sam's turn for her eyes to widen. _She is the first person that's ever called me a nickname. And it's so close to the real one!_ Again, she smiled, saying, "Tam would be wonderful."

Salma's face broke out into a big smile, one that made her eyes light up with childlike glee. "Okay," she exclaimed. "I wanna - I wanna show you the other kids!" And with that, she grabbed Sam's wrist and led her into the first of the buildings.

As Sam was introduced to the kids, she couldn't help but notice Phantom watching the entire exchange with amusement plain on his face. _The boy isn't too good at hiding his emotions, is he?_ she thought as he tried to stifle his smile. And she couldn't get those eyes of his off her mind. Blue eyes were almost as rare as her own violet irises. Sam knew for a fact that no one in her family for, at least, the past seven generations had had violet eyes. _What about him?_ she wondered. _Did he get his eyes from one of his parents? Grandparents?_

"And this," Salma concluded with a triumphant wave of her hand, "is Jazz." Salma gestured to a young woman that was about two or three years Sam's senior. Her red hair was matted and pulled back off her neck, but her smile was bright enough to light up the dingy room. With her air of confidence, Jazz could easily pass as a member of the nobility. "Jazz, this is Tam. Phantom brought her home and she's gonna stay with us."

Jazz raised a red eyebrow at that. "Phantom?" she repeated, turning the word over carefully in her mind. "Is that what he's calling himself now?"

Sam squirmed a bit under her gaze. Just how did she and Phantom know one another? _Friend? Girlfriend?...Wife?_ "Uh, yeah," Sam replied intelligently, showing off her mastery with her language skills. "How do you know Phantom?"

Jazz gave her a weird look at that. "How long have you known him?" she countered. "Does he not tell you anything about his life? At all?"

"Um." Come to think of it, Sam really didn't know him. At all. He'd just saved her from impending dismemberment and whisked her off to his home without a thought to what she might think. "I tripped and knocked over some expensive-looking vases, the merchant was going to cut off my hand, and Phantom just kind of...took me here. I do know that he's a thief," she finished.

Jazz's expression softened. "Oh. Well, I guess he didn't have much time to explain things on the way here." She rose from her spot on the ground and walked toward Sam. As she got up, Sam noticed a book lying next to her. _Wow, she must be smart. _After all, not many women were afforded the same education as men and few could read. Even Sam was only taught the basics, but she had managed to bribe one of the guards to teach her. _How did she learn? She obviously doesn't have much money to spare._ Sam was shook from her thoughts when Jazz extended a hand toward her. "Welcome, Tam. I'm Phantom's older sister and I must say, I approve."

"Approve?" Phantom's voice came through the dingy hall, followed shortly by Phantom himself. "Approve of what?"

A wry grin made its way onto Jazz's face. "Why, of your new girlfriend of course."

_Eh?_ "I'm not his girlfriend," Sam exclaimed at the same time that Phantom said, "She's not my girlfriend." They looked at each other for a moment, each trapped in the intensity of the other's eyes, before looking away with a tiny, minuscule blush on their cheeks. _Geez, I just met the guy and already people are making assumptions!_

After a brief, yet awkward, lull in the conversation, Phantom cleared his throat. "So, Tam, shall I show you your room?" He had his hand behind his neck again and was grinning sheepishly, so Sam was reassured that she was not the only one embarrassed.

"Sure." Phantom walked toward a stairwell she hadn't noticed before, leading her up a rather dilapidated set of winding stairs. It was rather dingy, but Sam could see the shafts of light poking through holes in the walls. Phantom brought her into a room with three blankets on the floor, a set of pots filled with wine and water, and a hole in the wall the size of a tapestry.

"This," Phantom swung himself in a large arc around the room, his black hair flinging to one side, "is the wine room. This is the coolest room in the building, so it keeps the wine nice and cold." By now, he had started to walk over to the gaping hole. "This," he gestured to the blankets, "is where you will be sleeping. And this," he pointed to the gash in the wall, "is one hell of a view."

Sam walked over and saw that Phantom was right; she could see for miles, further than she could from the top of the palace wall. The castle rose from the ground like a great gaping city, swallowing half of the city. _We don't need half of that space. Not even half a half._ Sam frowned. _The people of the city could put it to greater use than my parents do. It's crowded here; they could use the space_.

"You okay?" Phantom's voice startled Sam out of her thoughts. She turned to see him looking at her with those bright sapphire eyes, his expression memorably concerned. "You look upset about something." He quickly poked his head out the window. "No one's getting killed or anything, right?"

Sam rolled her eyes. This was a funny one, alright. "No, no deaths. At least not that I see," she replied grimly. "It's just that the palace is so huge, it take up half the city. Honestly, couldn't the people who live in such a crowded space put that room to better use than the sultan can?"

"I guess," Phantom replied, his eyebrows furrowing. "But the sultan also has more than half the money of Amity, so I suppose that it's kind of generous that he's only used half of one small city to build his palace on instead of half the kingdom."

"I don't think he and his ego could possibly fill half the kingdom," she deadpanned, "no matter how fat his head may be."

Phantom looked at her for a moment before bursting out into laughter, clutching his sides as he shook. He shook hard enough that he lost his balance and fell straight through the hole.

Sam could only stare wide eyed in shock. _Is he...did I just...what?_ "I think I killed him," she murmured, terrified at the thought of killing her first possible friend. "He just died laughing." She decided against looking out the window at his likely mangled body and chose instead to rise and head for the door.

"Nope, I'm not dead yet," a voice replied from just outside the window. Sam froze before immediately rushing back over. It would seem that Danny was hanging from the edge of the hole, suspended by only one hand about three stories above the ground. "Could you help me up? I'd rather not drop dead any time in the near future."

- - - - - - -

"Nothing?" he shouted, taking care that his voice would not rise high enough to alert anyone else to his presence. "Two nights and you have found _nothing_?"

The four armed bear was the first to speak. "Forgive us, my lord," he growled deep in his throat, menacing to anyne but the being before him. "The ghost is particularly difficult to track, even with all of our talents."

"Yes," the rabbit's first head spoke. "Perhaps he has not even passed on yet?"

"Or perhaps he has already crossed over?" the second head supplied.

"ENOUGH!" the blue ghost roared, his fangs protruding dangerously from his upper lip. "I will not tolerate these absurd notions. Of _course_ he exists, otherwise the all-knowing Sands would have said otherwise instead of leading me on a wild goose chase!" He made a show of pausing to close his eyes, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, ignoring the fact that ghosts do not need to breathe. Visibly calmer, he turned back to his charges. "Continue the search," he said with a wave of his hand. "Report back in two nights time." The ghouls bowed before flying out the wall once more.

The blue one's red eyes flickered to the window on the opposite wall. Carefully, he pushed back the drapes, put his hands to his lips, and issued a call not unlike a bird call, but with sharper whistles than any bird was known to do. He kept his eyes trained on the wall before him until a large silver specter shot through the window, his flaming green hair arranged in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. His green slitted eyes only lent to his dangerous appearance - that, and the intense weaponry had had at his immediate disposal.

The blue one smirked, one fang peeking out from the corner or his mouth. "I have a job for you."

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Haraba_ - Arabic for "to escape"

_Jilbab_ - a long robe-like garment worn by many Middle Eastern and/or Muslim women for modesty. Goes down to the ankles and, today, is often worn over other clothing.

_Hijab_ - a headwrap worn by many Middle Eastern and/or Muslim women for modesty. Does not necessarily cover the face, but does cover the hair.

_Oud_ - a string instrument similar in appearance to a lute, used in both Middle Eastern and East Arfican music

_Tamma_ - Hebrew for "innocent; honest"

_Salaam_ - Arabic for "hello"


	4. Abdaa

**A/N** Wait's been long, I know and I am sorry. Writer's block sucks. But hey, if it's any consolation, this is to date THE longest chapter I've ever written anywhere ever. So I keep outdoing myself just for you guys! So I use some alchemy in the chapter, but only the abstract notion of transmutation. The idea of transmuting dead matter into living matter is based on one of my own ideas (this should probably go under disclaimer, shouldn't it?). I just don't want anyone to be disillusioned about the true nature of alchemy. But there will be a fair part that alchemy plays in this story, so pay attention.

Twenty five reviews. I love you guys. You are so wonderful and you always make me smile :) A huge thank you to YOUR LOVING SISTER (who, yes, is actually my loving sister), Ummari the Cranky (CommonSenseless24, kpfan72491, pearl84, Nubecula, bloodmoon13, jellyb33n, secret spy guy, FunkyFish1991, Me-agaisnt-the-world, AmethystOcean, Arabic Blessing, DramaQueen4eva, Kurumi-chan, captainjackluver14, perpetually indecisive (my sister's new account - we match!), and reader. You guys are ROCKIN!

FYI - Anytime a paragraph uses the names "Sam" and "Phantom", it's from Sam's point of view. Anytime a paragraph uses the names "Tam" and "Danny", it's frm Danny's point of view. There is one exception where Sam and Danny are both mentioned in the same paragraph, but you'll understand. Just wanted to clear up any possible confusion before it starts.

Props to Arabic Blessing. Monty Python is incredible and so are you for getting the quote. Thou art mine hero.  
Additional props go to those who spot the very specific reference to one of the songs from Disney's Aladdin.

**Disclaimer: **If Danny Phantom were mine, I likely would have made this into one of the made-for-TV movies instead of a fanfiction, doncha think?

**Chapter Three  
Abdaa**

Shortly after Danny was pulled from his precarious position, Salma rushed into the room, panting as though she'd run a mile. "Da-Phantom," she rasped, covering up her mistake as a grunt. "Is th-there enough water for m-me?" The girl was gulping air as fast as she could, bent over and clutching her knees.

"Sure, Salma." Danny turned toward the other girl in the room. "Hey, Tam, could you get some water from the jug by your feet? I'm still a little shaken from that brush with death," he accented with a well-placed puppy dog face, knowing that no one could resist its charm, especially when doubled with guilt.

Sam raised an eyebrow, seeing through Phantom's little act. "I would," she began in a sickeningly sweet voice, "but my arms are too tired to move after lifting you back through the window." She moved her left arm and winced convincingly, turning a pained face in Phantom's direction. "Could you please get it?"

Danny was concerned; surely he couldn't have hurt Tam that much, could he? Then again, he knew he was probably a good twenty or thirty pounds heavier than she was. Add that to him dangling out a window as deadweight..."Yeah, Tam, that's fine," he said, feeling guilty that he had tried to trick her when she was the one in pain. "Do you want any?" he asked as he walked around the girl to the jar of water by her feet. "We have more than enough."

"That would be great, Phantom." Sam's face showed gratefulness, but she was laughing on the inside. After all, she'd only met Phantom a few hours ago and yet he was already believing her terrible acting job. The boy was clueless, no doubt about that.

Sam smiled as Phantom bent down to give Salma a small jar of water, which the girl gulped from greedily until it was drained dry. He walked back over and handed another small jar to Sam, to which she thanked him. Salma was still catching her breath, but her panting was now much softer. She stayed like that for a few moments longer before glancing around the room, her eyes landing on Phantom. "Phantom?" she asked, her brows knitted in slight confusion. "Why is Tam in your room?"

Danny froze. Somehow he knew this would come up. He'd hoped against it, but, of course, he just knew it. "I mean, she's not here to get anything to drink," Salma continued, not noticing his discomfort.

Sam turned incredulous eyes to Phantom. _His room? But he just said that I..._Her eyes widened. _I'm going to kill him,_ she decided, her incredulous stare becoming something akin to a death glare. _I'm going to kill him and then I'm going to laugh._

"Ehehe," Danny chuckled nervously, his hands outstretched in a please-don't-kill-me position as he took a step back. "I'm not going to be staying in here with you or anything, Tam. I just thought it would be gentlemanly to offer you one of the more comfortable rooms." By now, he was back to that nervous gesture of his with a hand at the back of his neck. "I'll be in the next room."

Slowly, Sam unclenched her fists, her expression not completely neutral. "You're staying in the next room?" she asked suspiciously. "Why not just have me stay there while you get your own room?"

A hand found its way to Danny's face, slowly dragging itself down with the help of gravity. "I told you, Tam," he said, allowing his hand to hover momentarily above his mouth and chin before it dropped limply back to his side. "I was trying to be nice. I'm no pervert, I'll tell you that. Just ask Jazz. I don't have the time or energy to try anything," he joked, cracking a smile that looked pained enough to almost be a wince.

Sam closed her eyes briefly, relaxing her face and removing all traces of anger as best she could. "I believe you, Phantom. This time," she added with a mock glare.

Funny. Neither of them noticed that Salma had left halfway through the conversation.

- - - - - - -

"Why do you do it?"

Danny shot a rather confused look at Tam. He was getting ready to depart for the marketplace, satchel in hand. With one more mouth to feed, it was slightly more difficult to get all of the provisions he needed, but not so much trouble that he would turn Tam out onto the streets. "Do what?"

"This."

"Well that clears it up quite nicely, doesn't it?"

"Shut up." Sam still wasn't used to Phantom's sarcasm; usually everyone at the palace was very straightforward and had nearly nonexistent senses of humor. She had to admit, it was a nice change of pace. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Would I be asking if I knew?"

"...yes."

"Oh, come on, either tell me what you're talking about or don't ask."

"Fine."

A minute passed without a word from either party. Tam was just sitting in the wine room by the "window", calmly staring at Danny. Danny's curiosity finally got to him. "Just tell me what you're talking about."

Sam hesitated. She wasn't completely sure how he was going to react to her question. Phantom certainly didn't appear to be violent, especially not with the care and love he showed to all of the children here, but she was still virtually a stranger to him. She'd only been here for two days and knew little more about him than she did the first day. "Stealing," she finally blurted. "Why do you steal from other people? I mean, don't you think that's wrong?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think its wrong?" he asked with a slight frown, but amusement was apparent in his eyes.

"Well," she started, "by stealing, you take something that rightfully belongs to someone else. Food, money, clothing, jewelry. Thieves will, in general, steal for profit. Don't get me wrong, Phantom, you're a really nice guy and everything, but I just don't see why you have to steal. Why not get a job or something?"

Danny was silent for few moments before he answered her. "Let me ask you something, Tam." He sank down to the floor next to her and stared at the opposite wall. "Why do you think someone would have to steal?"

"Um." Sam wasn't completely sure. "I know some people do it for attention, but not you. You steal because you need the food."

"Exactly." He sighed and hunched forward, hugging his knees. "I never steal jewelry or money or anything; I'm morally against that because that's not something that I _need_. I only steal what I need. I mean, you've gotta eat to live, right?" He turned to Tam and saw her vacantly nodding. "And I always make sure that I don't take stuff from people who can't compensate the loss. I'd never steal from an old man who can't work or from small children. It's like what I said before: I'm morally against that, it's not right. The merchants I frequent live closer to the palace with a lot more money than the people who live in this area. Have you seen their prices? They're the real thieves here," he finished with a small grin.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle slightly. Nothing like one of Phantom's lame jokes to lift her spirits. "First of all, merchants raise prices when their products 'mysteriously vanish', so you may have had some hand in the outlandish prices." She turned to see Phantom with a slight frown on his face as he counted something on his fingers.

"You know," he said with a weird look in his eye, "you might be right. Most of times I've stolen something, the price will have risen within the next week. Huh. Never thought about that."

"Second of all," she continued, "that still doesn't explain why you don't get a job. I mean, you'd at least be able to cut down on how much you have to steal, right?"

"Unfortunately, it's not so simple as that," Danny replied with a sideways glance at Tam. "Think about it: I'd be working all day, most likely doing manual labor or something equally painful. I wouldn't earn any money until the end of the week and, by then, I'd be too exhausted to actually steal anything. That, and I wouldn't be paid enough to get more than five apples weekly."

"Hmm, I see your dilemma."

"Oh, no dilemma," Danny grinned half-heartedly. "I made my mind up about that long ago. Besides, all of the children here are orphans." He turned to Tam. "I've told you that, right?"

"No," she rolled her eyes, "but I'd guessed by now."

"Oh. Well, anyway, all of the kids here are orphans, so they don't have anyone else to provide for them. That means I need every slab of meat, every drop of wine, every piece of fruit that I can get my hands on. Twelve kids, a sister, and a guest are a lot to have to provide for, especially if I plan on eating, too." Danny glanced out the window, seeing that the sun had already risen high enough that there was sky between it and the mountains. "Sorry, Tam, but duty calls." With a half-assed salute, he left.

_I guess I never really thought about why someone would steal_, she thought to herself, still staring at that wall as though it was the most interesting thing she'd seen in a long time. _I've just been raised to know that thieves are bad, that they only think about themselves. _She allowed herself a small smile. _But not Phantom._

- - - - - - -

"JAAAAAAAZZ!" One of the girls, an eight year old named Basma, cried out. She stumbled over from the rest of the children and past Sam to the red haired girl, clutching her finger in apparent pain.

"Basma, what happened?" Jazz asked, soothingly patting the girl's hair.

"Well," Basma began through tear-filled eyes, "I was - I was playing with Alvan an' Chason. They said that girls weren't smart or strong as boys. So I - I told them that girls are too strong an' smart. Alvan told me that I had to prove it and wrestle." By now, to Sam's chagrin (she had never been particularly good with children), Basma's face was streaked with tears. "I said okay so I wrestled with Chason. But then I - I fell down. An' he stepped on my fiiiingerrrrrrr!" The poor girl was bawling her eyes out at this point, looking so sad that Sam might have been tempted to go comfort her if Jazz was not already dealing with it immediately.

"Oh, Basma," she sighed, tucking a strand of the girl's coal black hair behind her ear. "Why would you even want to wrestle with Chason?"

Basma hastily wiped her tears away with her arm before donning a rather angry looking face. "I wanted to show them that girls are strong, too!" she declared with righteousness in her tone. "I been practicin' my wrestling with Salma an' I won every time so I though I could beat him. I just wanted to make them stop being mean to us girls."

Jazz shook her head, her expression still slightly scolding. "Salma is two years younger than you. Of course you're going to win against her. Not that I understand why you've been wrestling with her or at all, for that matter." She turned reprimanding eyes on the girl before her before sighing. "Chason and Alvan are both three years older than you. You should not have tried to fight either one of them."

"I know," Basma sniffed.

"However," Jazz continued, her eyes showing pride, "you did show them that you were brave. Fighting an older by who is stronger than you takes a lot of courage, especially since you didn't know if you would win or lose. Chason, on the other hand, only showed that he would fight little girls to make his point."

"So does - does that make me stronger than them?"

"Yes," Jazz smiled. "Yes, it does. Now let's go and get you something for your finger." Now grinning ear to ear, Basma took Jazz's hand as the older girl led them up the stairs of the old building.

_Wow, _Sam thought. _Jazz allowed Basma to stand up for herself as a girl, no questions asked. Well, okay, a few questions, but not the point_.

She kicked an imaginary pebble in her path. _I don't think Jazz has anything here for when the children get really sick or hurt. Some cool water would be enough for healing Basma's finger, but what does she do when one of them catches cold? Or when someone breaks a bone? There's no decent medical help around here that she or Phantom can afford_, she thought bitterly.

An image of the palace instilled itself in her mind. All of the wasted food, the squandered money, the services and comforts that everyone took for granted. Anger was not a strong enough word to describe what Sam was feeling right then; rage, perhaps, would fit her mood better. These children lived in a place where glass was embedded in the floors while the wealthy few basked in their sheer good luck at being born into the nobility or royalty. It wasn't fair!

_It's not fair! These children live better than many orphans and still they are underfed in bad living conditions where they can only look forward to growing up to be thieves or prostitutes! Why are there so few members in the privileged class while the rest of the country lives in filth and disrepair? It doesn't make sense!_

_I'm a princess, right? Maybe I can do something about this when I go back...if I go back._ Nausea wormed its way into Sam's stomach as she thought of how much worse the country would be if it fell into the hands of the grand vizier. _These children might not even be alive. If I know Vlad, and I do, he'd make poverty a mental illness and have them all killed._

_I'm not going to let that happen. I can't. _Sam realized that she couldn't stay away from her home and position forever; she still had a duty to her people. When she was queen, she would make sure that no one had to live like this again, that all of the orphaned children were well taken care of, and that all of the citizens of the country were fed. And, of course, that women did not have to prove that they were as good as men. _But I don't have to go back yet; after all, I won't be queen for a long time._

- - - - - - -

"Phantom?"

Danny sat up too fast, forgetting that a rather large, thick plank of wood was directly above him and hit his head in his haste. "Zarba," he cursed under his breath before turning to look at the source of his pain. Black hair, pale skin. Violet eyes. _Can only be one person_, he thought as he rubbed his head. "Hey, Tam."

"You okay there, Phantom?" Tam's worry was reflected in her eyes. But it wasn't as though he'd hit his head after falling five stories, right? He'd had to deal with that last year and it was no walk in the park. But Tam seemed genuinely worried over such a small wound. _Why?_

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responded after a few seconds of silence had already passed. "Why? It's not that bad, just a bump."

Tam simply gave him a leveled glance before moving her milk white hand to the crown of his head, gently touching her fingers to the bump. Red stained her hands as she pulled away. Danny looked up to see that there was a bit of blood on the plank of wood, too.

"Stay right here; don't move," she commanded. Danny raised an eyebrow, but complied.

"Danny?"

He nearly had the same reaction, but he managed to stay still instead, remembering Tam's orders. Red hair peeked out at him from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, Jazz?"

She crouched down beside him, a rather smug smirk adorning her face. "Oh, nothing," she said in the tone that very clearly meant "something". "I was just watching you and Tam, that's all."

_Me and Tam? What is she talking about?_ "What are you talking about? She made me hit my head and went to get some stuff to clean me up. What's so wrong with that?"

Jazz's grin widened perceptibly as she cradled her face in both of her hands. "You haven't seen your so-called 'flesh wound', have you?"

"No, why?"

"It's one of the tiniest little cuts I've ever seen," she said with a hint of victory in her tone. "The length of your little toe. Maybe. The kids get bigger scrapes than this on a good day. Why would Tam be helping to clean you up from this?"

"Um." _How am I supposed to know? She just ran off with her stupid "stay here" orders; how the hell should I know what passe through the mind of a girl?_ "Because she's nice?"

"Uh huh." Danny shifted uncomfortably; was Jazz trying to say...did Tam...like him? "If you think that's the only reason, go ask her when she gets back. I'm sure she'll have no problem answering."

Okay, that was _exactly_ was Jazz was hinting at. "Yes, Jazz, because I actually want to die. Of course." Her aqua eyes were laughing at him as though she knew something he didn't. _What else is she thinking about? She can't possibly think..._

"So then you agree that she likes you?"

"Yes...no...uh...argh, Jazz, I have no idea! What makes you think that I, The Clueless One, would be able to read Tam's mind?"

"But _you _like _her_, right?"

"Yeah, I mean...wait, what?" _What_ had Jazz just gotten him to say?

That triumphant gleam was back in her eyes. "Knew it! I knew it!" Jazz did the best happy dance she could while still sitting on the ground, ignoring her brother's cries of protest, until she settled back down with a more serious look on her face. "Look, Danny, I don't know what why you won't actually tell her your real name (unless you're insecure about her feelings toward you enough that you believe that any lies shown on your part will ruin your developing relationship), but that would be one way to show her that you really trust her, that you like her, too."

"Jazz," Danny interrupted in a stern voice reminiscent of...someone very dear to them. "Shut up."

Rolling her eyes, Jazz continued as though her petulant brother had never spoken. "At least let her know that she's welcome to stay for as long as she wants."

Danny's eyes softened at Jazz's proclamation. _I haven't exactly said that, have I? Just said she could stay for a bit..._"Okay, I'll do that."

"Do what?" a now-familiar voice asked from Jazz's left. Tilting his head slightly downward, Danny saw Tam's silhouette in the sunlight. _She _is_ pretty. Very pretty. Maybe Jazz is right, maybe..._Danny shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Maybe what? Maybe she likes a thief without anything to offer her? Yeah, that's likely_. He purposefully ignored the nagging voice in his head that suggested maybe he liked her, too.

"Uh, nothing. Nothing," he said as he pushed his sister away with the last word. "She just wanted me to, um...get some milk?"

"Get some milk?" Tam kneeled down beside him, her face betraying her confusion. "What do you need milk for?"

"Um, see, one of the kids, S-Salma, hasn't been feeling too well. So, uh, we thought we'd, I mean I'd, get her some, uh, milk." _Smooth, Phantom. Smooooth._

"Okay," Tam responded with a lilt to her eyebrow that suggested she didn't believe whatever it was he'd just said. He turned his head to his right a little bit to see her ripping the bottom of her hijab.

"Tam! What are you doing?"

Tam rolled her eyes before submerging the cloth in a small bucket of water. "I told you, dummy, I'm cleaning you up." She must have seen him tense as soon as she touched the cloth to his forehead because she tapped him lightly on the nose, saying, "Sit still. It's pretty nasty, so I need some concentration."

_Okay_, Danny thought, _either she's lying of Jazz is. I bet it's Jazz; she just wanted to back up her idea with some "solid evidence"._

_But then again_, that nagging voice in Danny's head piped up, _it doesn't hurt much, does it? Not like a big wound would or should._

_So, then what?_ Danny argued. _Tam likes me?_

The other voice was silent.

Instead of focusing on his internal conversation, Danny chose to concentrate on the feel of the cloth on his forehead. It was rough, but cool, and he could feel Tam's fingertips as they pressed harder onto his head. He closed his eyes, allowing his head to roll completely to the side, feeling strangely drowsy.

He missed the smile Tam gave him as he slept.

- - - - - - -

"You were right, Phantom," Sam observed as she looked out the large hole in the wall.

"Hmmgf?" was his intelligent response. He'd just managed to steal more food than he had managed to on any one day in the last two months and was currently pigging out on some of the dried beef. After he swallowed he asked, "What about?"

"The view," she replied. The sunset was truly magnificent, the colors playing out against the stark colors of the palace and city, transforming the sky and earth into a dazzling array of blues, purples, pinks, and golds. "It's as incredible as you keep saying it is."

"Yeah," Danny replied, looking half at the sunset and half at Tam. "View's great."

The two friends sat in comfortable silence for a few moments more. Sam was the one who broke the silence. "Hey Phantom? Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

Sam hesitated, unsure as to how he would handle the possibly touchy subject. "I know it's a noble cause and everything, but why do you and Jazz do this? Why don't you just go and take care of yourselves? Wouldn't that be easier?"

Inwardly, Danny winced. He should've known it'd be a question like that. Silently, he ran a hand through his thick hair, trying to decide on what he should and shouldn't tell. "Um," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "for you to understand that, I'd need to give you the whole story."

"The whole story?" Now Sam was slightly confused, but damn if that got in the way of her need to know! "Okay, it's not like I don't have the time to listen."

One or two deep, shuddering breaths later, Danny was ready to speak. "My parents were alchemists." He watched as Tam's eyes widened; he'd never mentioned his parents before in front of her and was fairly sure that she wouldn't miss his use of the word "were", either. It certainly wasn't a happy subject for him. "Jack and Maddie. They were great parents and were very much in love, but their work was always first in their lives. They would use so much of their enthusiasm on us, but put even more into their projects. We accepted that." He paused, wrapping his arms around his knees before continuing.

"Their biggest goal was to bring the dead back to live in some form of another. Apparently - and they tried to explain this to me so many times that I've lost count, but I still don't completely understand - everything that the world is made up of, or the elements, can all be turned into one another with the proper technique. This is what they called 'transmutation'." He took another deep breath.

"My parents worked with the idea that, by changing the dead elements of a body to living ones, the dead could be restored. They tried this out on one of their fellow alchemists, who they wounded severely, but he wasn't brought back correctly. He was colder and his heart rate severely slowed, but he was still alive, so the other alchemists took this as a great success. My parents took it for what it was - a message to alchemists.

"They were doing it wrong."

"What do you mean, they were doing it wrong?" Sam ventured to ask. The story so far seemed unbelievable almost - how could something, anything, be changed into anything else at whim? "They brought someone back to life, right? That means that it was a success. Right?"

Danny shook his head, a small smile playing out on his face. "No, the other man was on his way to death, but hadn't reached it yet. He was less than half alive when they tried to heal him and my parents thought, and I agree, that he wasn't completely restored to full life. You see," he continued, seeing the incredulous look on Tam's face and enjoying it quite thoroughly, "my parents decided to perform a few tests on him. About half of his elements appeared dead."

Sam stared. A half-dead man? "That's almost too crazy to believe."

Danny sighed. "Well, if you don't believe me..."

"Hold on there. I said 'almost', so you just keep going."

Danny barked out a laugh, just one, before sobering. "Yes, the man was apparently half-dead, but he was alive enough to walk around. This was a bit pre-Jazz, just so you know, so I never knew the man personally. He severed contact with my family eventually for some reason. I still don't know why. Anyway, after this man's almost-death, my parents decided that they would concentrate mostly on the dead."

"Wait, wait," Sam interrupted. "I thought they already concentrated on the dead. That was the whole point of the experiments and stuff with the dead-ish guy, right?"

"Well, yes," Danny explained. "And no. Their projects had been mostly focuses on the restoration of life. But here, they became entranced with the fate of the dead, specifically those that don't exactly leave."

"That don't exactly leave..." Sam repeated quietly before her eyes widened in understanding. "You mean - "

"Ghosts," Danny finished firmly. "My parents went off on a whole new range of experiments that they aimed toward finding out how ghosts could sustain themselves here. This later evolved into their desire to study all aspects of ghosts, including their battle expertise. So they became ghost hunters, armed with alchemy that could destroy ghosts or send them away where they couldn't bother anyone here anymore. I never quite figured out how they did all of this, but they did. Somehow.

"I remember the first ghost I ever saw," he said, shivering. "I had just wished to have a dog when all of a sudden, this giant green and blue ghost, a dead harem girl perhaps, came up behind me and said that my wish was her command. Next thing I knew, I had a giant green ghost dog chasing me around the house. My parents came in and did some sort of incantation thing and the ghosts vanished. I was five. It was traumatic." He shivered again. "I still like dogs, though."

_Okay, but what does this have to do with now?_ Sam asked herself. _He's really getting off topic._ "Continue."

"If milady commands it," he grinned. It was soon replaced with a grimace, one that showed pain. "Well, one night after my seventh birthday, a ghost came to our house. He was just a flash of blue to me." By this point, Danny's hands were visibly shaking. "He came and yelled something to my parents, saying that they made him what he was. But my parents never killed anyone!" He banged his fist loudly against the floor, looking enraged that someone could have ever even thought his parents capable of murder.

After Danny calmed down, he said, "The blue ghost shot something pink from his hands. It hit my parents and killed them instantly, taking the house with them. Jazz and I barely made it out of that house alive." He propped his head on his knees, his jaw set in determination. "That's why I help these kids. I know how hard it is to lose your parents, your home, and everything you ever loved. I know what it's like to live for years without any sort of parental love. I know that it can harden people, and I don't want the children to have that kind of life."

Sam was in shock. Phantom's story was unbelievable. She almost asked if that was why he called himself Phantom (she knew it wasn't his real name, of course), but decided against it. So much pain, so much loss...She had never experienced anything like that before and likely never would. _And he's not hardened like he said many are_, she realized. _He's gentle and loving and kind and gentle...wait, did I just say loving?_ She paused in her mental rant for a moment. _Yes, he is loving. He is able to love despite all that the world has thrown at him. He...he deserves so much more than this._

_I want to give it to him_.

"So," Danny said, succeeding in making Tam jump nearly a mile as she crashed back into reality. "I've told you why I'm here. What about you?"

Peculiarly, Sam found herself blushing and blanching at the same time. After his incredible story, anything she could've said would sound childish and stupid. Besides, how much could she really tell him. "Um, it's not nearly what your story was."

"Who cares? I just like to hear new stories every once in a while."

"Um. Okay." Honestly, she had no idea what she should say. _Oh, hello, I'm a princess who lives in the palace with both of parents and all of her servants, living in the lap of luxury. Yeah, right._ "Well, mine is a decidedly less noble reason, just so that you know in advance." She paused again, thinking of what parts she should tell. "My parents decided that I would have to marry someone, anyone, in the next month or so. Basically, they were actively trying to make my life miserable. So I...left." She was afraid Phantom would think her stupid for running away from home, especially from something as trivial as that. But that apparently wasn't the part he'd been paying particular attention to.

"You have to marry 'someone, anyone'?" he asked, moving slightly closer to her on the floor. They were only about a foot away from each other at this point. "That's what your parents said?"

"Okay, no, not 'someone, anyone'. More like 'someone, anyone that has some money and status to their name'."

"Ouch." Danny again moved closer to her. "So you basically have to marry any random rich snot that you want. Have fun picking from that lot."

"Oh, I won't be. I ran away, remember?" This time, it was Sam who moved closer. The gap between them was slowly closing, only allowing a few stray lights from the dying sun to pass between them. "I am free to choose whomever I want for a husband here."

"Um, yeah. Right." Those words, for some inexplicable reason, had a strange effect on Danny. For one, he was the only man, or boy, her age around here. For another, she had already chosen to stay with him. Was she trying to say something? Was Jazz right? _Or have I just lost my mind?_

_He is so strong_, Sam thought to herself as she gazed at Phantom. _I don't know what I would have done if life had put me in his extraordinary circumstances. I'd likely be dead by now. He deserves better. _It amazed her, how close they'd become in the span of a week. But she already found herself compelled to lean toward his cheek, lips puckered, trying to give him reassurance that, at least for now, he was not alone.

_Hey, I haven't told her what Jazz wanted me to say_, Danny remembered. _What was that, again? Oh, right, that she can live here._ He turned his head, "Hey, Tam, I - "

He was cut off by the unexpected meeting of their lips. Two pairs of eyes remained wide open as they stared at each other for what seemed like hours. _Her lips are so soft_. Neither really wanted to move away. _He tastes like mint._ But eventually, they both leaned away, refusing to meet each other's eyes.

_I want to feel his lips again._

_I want to taste her again._

Unconsciously, these thoughts ran through the minds of both Danny and Sam as they found themselves once more leaning toward each other, eyes gently closing, lips slightly open...

"PHANTOM!"

Danny jumped away from Tam as if she was on fire. Was that...oh, shit. The guards found him. Here. Here, of all places. And now, of all times. "Tam, run!" he shouted as he bolted for the door, Tam following closely behind him.

From behind the doorway, the guard named Makhvala called to her fellow guards. "He can't escape here! Capture him!" Within minutes, Phantom emerged from the room, escorted by two of the other guards. But no one else.

Makhvala wrinkled her nose in consternation. "Wasn't there a girl here?" she asked one of the guards. "I heard a female voice."

"We didn't see anyone, Makhvala," the bigger of the two replied.

_Wait...Makhvala...she's a member of the royal guard...I _know_ her._ Sam leapt out of her hiding place and into direct view of the guards. "You must not have looked hard enough, hmm?"

"Tam, no!" Danny yelled, twisting and writhing in the guards' grasp. It was one thing for him, a thief, to be arrested, but it was an entirely different matter to have an innocent involved in a potentially dangerous situation such as this. Especially if he liked her...

"Restrain her," Makhvala ordered one of the guards, who went obligingly. Sam struggled under his grasp before yanking down the hijab, revealing the amethyst tiara beneath. Makhvala's eyes widened as she started to sputter before ordering her men to bow.

_Bow? Why would they..._Danny strained his neck under the guards' grasp to see what had changed in the situation. Tam's hair was now showing, along with a lovely purple tiara. Danny didn't know what it meant, but he knew that Tam wasn't exactly who he'd come to believe she was.

"By order of Princess Samantha of Amity, let Phantom go!"

Danny nearly popped a gut. _Well, that would explain._

"I apologize, your _highness_," the guard, Makhvala, replied, her teeth gritted as though in extreme pain. Or extreme anger. "But this boy has been accused of countless crimes around the area for years. His fate cannot be changed on a whim."

"This is no mere whim, _Val_." An angry red flush spread out over Sam's pale features, staining like blood. "I am the princess and as such, you must do as I command."

"I follow your father, Samantha, not you." And with that, Danny felt a sharp pain on the side of his head as his world turned black.

- - - - - - -

"Skulker," the blue one hissed, his back turned to the minion. "It is useless to even ask, isn't it?"

Skulker dropped his head, still careful to keep eye contact with his employer. There was no love lost, nor trust gained, between the two. "No, sire, I am displeased to say that I have failed. There is none in the kingdom that matches that particular description; most spirits are malevolent by nature."

"It has been over one week," the cloaked one reminded the hunter. As if he could forget. "I expected to have results by now. You are my best, you realize. After myself, of course."

"Yes," the hunter grated out. It was almost painful to have to listen to these remarks; a hunter, by nature, needs confidence that he will catch his prey. With both an eluding prey and a depreciative employer, is it any small wonder that he was distressed? He himself had expected to catch the whelp four nights ago.

"Hmm. Perhaps I have another job for you."

Skulker's ears pricked. Or they would have, if he'd had them. "Another job?" he asked, more than a little suspicious. "What kind?"

"Oh, you will know in good time." The blue one paused to grin a rather sadistic smile before continuing. "By the way, Skulker, are you free tonight? We have an criminal waiting for his execution and I believe I know just the ghost for the job."

It only took a few seconds, but soon Skulker's grin matched that of his employer's. "My pleasure."

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Abdaa_ - Arabic for "to reveal"

_Basma_ - Arabic for "a smile"

_Alvan_ - Hebrew for "tall"

_Chason_ - Hebrew for "strong; hardy"

_Zarba_ - Arabic for "shit"

_Jack_ - Hebrew for "God is gracious"

_Maddie_ - short for _Madeline,_ Hebrew for "from Magadala"

_Makhvala_ - Central Asian for "blackberry" (nickname can be "Val")

_Skulker_ - from the English word "to skulk", meaning "to move in a stealthy manner"


	5. Halaka

**A/N** And finally, the fourth chapter is out! It is shorter than the last, but it contains a great deal of information. Again, all of the alchemy mentioned is of my own design and only based of the true form of art. So basically I made up a bunch of stuff about how alchemy applies to those lliving their afterlives and how it differs slightly from human use of alchemy. More will be revealed, but pay attention as this will still play an extremely important part in the story. Also, in case any of you are confused about Danny's...predicament, I'll explain in a short A/N before the translation section. Hey, there's not much to translate this time! WOOO!

Thank you to my fantastico reviewers: YOUR LOVING SISTER, Ummari the Cranky CommonSenseless24, kpfan72491, pearl84, Nubecula, bloodmoon13, jellyb33n, secret spy guy, FunkyFish1991, Me-agaisnt-the-world, AmethystOcean, Arabic Blessing, DramaQueen4eva, Kurumi-chan, captainjackluver14, perpetually indecisive (my sister), and reader. You guys make me smile :)

So right now, Danny knows that Sam is Sam and not Tam, but Sam doesn't know that Danny is Danny and not Phantom. So yes. Have fun.

Oh, and ANGST WARNING!

**Disclaimer:** I own this story and my own twisted version of alchemy. The rest is someone else's.

**Chapter Four  
Halaka**

"Ugh," Danny groaned out, his voice hoarse. "What happened?"

One green eye opened and stared blankly for a moment before Danny realized that he couldn't see. Immediately, his other eye flew open and joined the first in scanning the room, if that was indeed what it was. For a few painfully long moments, Danny was certain that he was blind. He heaved a sigh of...gratitude?...when he realized that a nearly full moon was staring at him from behind the bars of a small circular window. No, gratitude would be the wrong word - even though he could see, Danny was still completely in the dark as to what was happening.

_Okay, Phantom, think. Why the fuck would you be...wherever you are?_ Danny squinted his eyes shut, wracking his brain for any memories of the past few days that would give him any clues, any at all. Almost instantly, Tam's smiling violet eyes popped into his mind's eye. Images of Tam smiling, frowning, laughing all flew through his mind as a small grin tugged at his lips.

_"Hey, Tam, I - "_

_Without warning, he felt something soft, inexplicably soft, on his lips. It took him a few moments to realize that Tam was kissing him, her amethyst eyes just as wide open as his own. It felt right. It just felt right to him. In what could have been seconds or hours, he had decided to wrap his arms around her when she began to pull away. Both avoided each other's eyes before glancing back, caught once again in the entangling web of the other's eyes._

They had kissed. He and Tam had kissed. No, she kissed him. That meant she liked him. Right?

Danny shook his head as the grin slipped from his face. A grim expression set itself in his features as he struggled to remember what happened next. He couldn't be thinking about such trivial matters as whether Tam was or wasn't attracted to him when her life could be in danger. Where was Tam anyway? Why wasn't she locked in this dungeon as well? Not that he wasn't glad - perhaps she had escaped. Or maybe something worse had befallen her..._No, Phantom,_ Danny admonished himself, _you can't be thinking like that. She's fine. She has to be._

An image of a black female guard popped into his mind.

_"Restrain her," the guard yelled to to subordinates. Danny watched helplessly as Tam struggled in their grasp, determination written on her face. Somehow, she managed to free an arm and yanked down her head covering to reveal...her hair?_ Why would she do that? _Danny wondered. _But wait..._Something shiny caught his eye._

_He didn't have time to examine what he was seeing as he was pushed into a bowing position by a studdering guard (Makhvala, was it?), his head between his legs for a moment. "Bow," she hissed to her men before they, too, lowered their heads, though not quite so low as Danny._

Bow? Why would they..._Danny struggled to look up and was amazed by the sight that greeted him. Tam's short black hair was not all she had revealed, not at all. Sitting atop her head was a sparkling circlet of silver with a giant amethyst in the middle that looked as big as a camel's eye._ What the hell? Who _is_ she?

_"By order of Princess Samantha of Amity, let Phantom go!"_

_Danny nearly popped a gut._ Well, that would explain.

All he could remember after that was a sharp blow to the head, courtesy of either Makhvala or one of her subordinates.

"So that explains a lot," Danny muttered bitterly. "She was a princess. A _princess_! They probably thought I kidnapped her or something." His eyes burned at the thought; he would never do such a thing! Kidnapping...please, he wouldn't even steal jewelry because he couldn't eat it. What would he do with a captive princess? Hold her ransom? Steal her money? Eat her? _But then why else would she hang around somewhere like that when she has a whole palace? That must be what the guards automatically assumed._

But no; Tam...or Samantha (_does she go by Sam_?), as he now knew her name to be...was there on her own accord. But why? For fun? Who could possibly want to leave the comfort and security of the palace for the streets of Amity?

_She did mention something about being forced to be married..._

Shaking his head again, Danny turned his thoughts once more to his own predicament. After all, if Tam, er, Samantha, was the princess, then she would not be in any real danger. She'd be safe in the palace. That was a comforting thought, but Danny still didn't know any more about his own position. Searching his memories again, something came back to him. It was fuzzy, almost as if it had been a dream, but Danny couldn't be certain.

_His head hurt like hell. It throbbed with every beat of his heart and, considering how terrified he was at the moment, it was beating much faster than usual. He had no idea where he was or what he'd done to get himself in a place such as this. It was grimy, dank, and cold with shackles on the bleak stone walls. He was currently held up by his own shackles on his wrists. If he listened carefully, he could hear sounds outside of his own prison. It sounded like screaming._

_The door swung open with a loud bang to reveal a tall man in a black cloak. Every inch of his body was covered up except for his eyes, which almost seemed to glow a dangerous red. He carried a large broadsword, sharpened to perfection, and spoke with a gravelly tone. "Follow me, whelp," he commanded, his eyes glistening like rubies in the dark._

_"Sorry, can't exactly do that with these locked around my wrists, pal," Danny spat at the man as he shook his wrists. The man narrowed his eyes through the slits in his black mask before holding out a piece of rope. He bound Danny's hands together tight enough to make his wrists bleed before fishing out the key to his shackles and unlocking him._

_Before they started walking, the man brought out another length of rope and an eyeless brown mask. He shoved Danny's head into the mask and tied the rope around his neck to prevent it from falling. "Come, whelp," the man commanded once again, tugging Danny blindly behind him._

Danny shivered at the memory. He'd thought he was going to die. Why didn't he? _Maybe the princess cleared my name for me?_ he thought with hopefulness. _Then I can just go home and figure out this whole mess._

It was then that he realized he was glowing slightly.

"Holy shit," he whispered. It wasn't enough to actually light the room up or anything as he would have noticed earlier, but he was emitting a soft glow from his skin. He had no idea how or why, but he was. "What the hell is going on?"

He looked closer at himself, using the glow from his skin as well as the light of the moon to see clearly. His robes had turned from a light brown to a deep black with white accents. His pants that were once a dark brown were now black as well and his sandals were immaculate white instead of black. "My clothes switched colors?" he wondered aloud. "Why?"

_I wonder..._"Has anything else changed?" He slowly reached up a glowing hand to touch the top of his head. He plucked a strand of hair and brought his hand back down to examine it. It was white as death.

"Oh my god," he whispered, his voice shaking as much as his hand. "What is happening to me?"

All of a sudden, a thought hit him as hard as a block of marble. His pupils contracted at the notion, leaving a wide strip of green where blue should be. "Am I..." He couldn't finish the thought aloud. It was too ridiculous, too absurd, too..._Am I dead? Am I...a ghost?_

Danny shut his eyes, allowing the possibility to wash over him like a wave. His father's words came back to him as though he was in the room with his son.

_"Well, Danny," Jack began, his voice jovial as always, "ghosts are better able to use alchemy in their daily lives. Er, afterlives. For example, humans use special runes, incantations, and objects to perform transmutations, as you have seen both your mother and me do at different times. Ghosts have a special element in their blood that allows them to bypass the use of objects called 'ectoplasm' - it is able to manifest itself in many different ways to act as the object. Also, ghosts only need to use the incantation up until the first time they master particular form of alchemy; after that, it becomes muscle memory and the ectoplasm remembers the incantation itself, so ghosts can surprise people and other ghosts with their attacks. It's one of the reasons they are so dangerous."_

_"What about the runes?" a younger Danny who was trying to comprehend all of this new information asked. "You said there were runes."_

_"Ah, yes," Jack continued. "The runes. Well, as you've noticed, my boy, different ghosts have different abilities. That's because each ghost has different kinds of runes already writtien on their bodies when they come into existence. They can learn more, of course, but only with experience and knowledge. Many ghosts are hundreds of years old with many transmutations in their arsenal, which makes them much harder to control than the younger, less experienced ones."_

Danny's eyes shot open. That was right...ghosts could perform alchemy, couldn't they? That was how they could become invisible and shoot beams from their bare hands. And the runes...Danny frantically tore at his sleeves, checking for any signs of symbls that might be written on his body. That would confirm if he was dead, right?

After a minute of searching, Danny found one behind his right elbow. He could vaguely remember that it was the rune for invisibility. That would help in escaping, right? He could slip past the guards and everything. Now, if only he knew the incantation to set it off...

If he could be invisible, he would be able to steal much more easily. The children could actually have full stomachs for once in their lives because the guards literally couldn't catch him. He'd be invisible. _Well, unless they decided to throw some paint of wine on me to show my silhouette. _But that could be easily overcome. Ghosts could also fly, right? He'd be able to get away easily. _Unless they grabbed onto my foot and hung on_. Well, yes, but then he could also use that power to walk thrugh walls. He could get home quickly and with more food than ever. _But the guards already know where I live._ Then he'd use his ghost powers to fight.

But he was dead. He would scare the children and Jazz would have a heart attack and likely not come back as a ghost. And that would suck for everyone. No, he couldn't go back. At least, not until he had every single ghost power possible to protect them all.

And the princess...well, if she couldn't be with him when he was alive, it was highly unlikely that she'd want to be with a dead guy.

_I'll just have to learn everything that I can. Find an incantation or two, fight some battles, steal the runes from other ghosts, and get more powerful. That way, I can help the children even more. And maybe I'll get enough power that Samantha would want to be with me._

He shook his head. _No, I'd want her to like me for me, not for my power. But that might be the only way to win her over, especially since her parents have a say in it._

_I wish I was alive again. I don't want to be a ghost and stay here forever. This isn't something I should have to think about. I'm seventeen, for God's sake. I shouldn't be dealing with this._

Danny looked out to the moon. It was shining brighter than him, looking much more majestic. It was alive and powerful, able to move a man to tears while drowning him in the tide. His eyes fell to something he hadn't seen before, a lump of cloth. He walked slowly over to it and bent before it, seeing what it was. Now that he was closer, he could see that the cloth was just wrapped arund something much larger. He kicked it; it seemed heavy. So Danny began to unwrap the cloth; maybe it was food. _Do ghosts even really need to eat or do they just - _

_Oh my god._

Wide-eyed in horror, Danny could see clearly what was contained in the cloth wrap. The moonlight filtered over pale skin, accentuating the dark redish-brown marks that streaked over the light brown robes, dark brown pants, and even the black sandals. Severed from the body was a head with matted black-as-oil hair and unseeing blue eyes.

Danny slowly made his way to the corner of dungeon before emptying the contents of his stomach at the sight of his own beheaded body.

- - - - - - -

Vlad walked briskly down the corridor that would take him to the queen's chambers, his expensive black and red robe dragging lightly behind him. He had no time to waste; if he was going to do it this month, he would need to have it working before the light of the next full moon shone in the night.

He stopped briefly in front of one of the mirrors, making sure that his silvery grey hair was neatly tucked back; it simply wouldn't do to have to queen see him look a mess. She would refuse his request. And then he would ask the sultan for the same favor but he, being the ignorant fool he was, would refuse him as well. No, best leave nothing to chance.

Taking a deep breath, Vlad knocked on the door to the queen's chambers. A handmaid poked her head out before beckoning him in.

The queen sat on a pile of pillows at least a yard high with six other handmaids flitting around the room to do as she bid them do. The room was lavish and gaudy, as was the style of the queen. Vlad quickly schooled his features into worry and remorse before taking a step toward the queen. "Your majesty," he breathed, bowing low before her royal airheadedness. "Princess Samantha is once again on the premises. I thought it only right that I should be the one to deliver the good news."

She merely sniffed. "Samantha needs to learn that what her father and I decide is the law in this household." Vlad simply smiled; of course it was the law, they were the sultan and queen. Samantha was surely not so idiotic as not to understand that. "She will be confined to the palace until she has chosen a suitable husband; I forbid her from stepping foot outside, even on palace grounds. She will likely run away again and we simply cannot have that, can we?"

Vlad bowed once more. "Of course, your majety. It is as you decree." He tilted his head upward, once again manipulating his expression. "My, your highness, but that is a very small brooch for someone as rich and powerful as you."

The queen glanced down at her brooch. It was a rather large diamond, about the size of an elephant's eye and perfectly rounded. But yes, she supposed that there were much larger diamonds in the kingdom. "Yes, Vlad, what of it?"

"I mean no harm in mentioning it, majesty, only to propse that one of your station should not confine themselves to such small jewels. Perhaps I could take this disgrace off your hands for you." No matter how much he had mastered his own emotions, Vlad could not conceal the hunger in his eyes as he impatiently waited for her response.

Her fingers glossed over the aforementioned jewel. "Yes," she sighed, unpinning it from her bosom, "I suppose it is a bit small for me. Do with it as you will, dear Vlad." She set the jewel carefully in his outstretched palm.

"Thank you, majesty," Vlad gushed, bowing a third time before exiting. His eyes gleamed dangerously in the light the the diamond reflected.

_After all, what better way to find one diamond than with another?_

_- - - - - - -_

"You're a bitch."

Makhvala rolled her eyes. Dealing with the princess was always tiring. She thought she knew what was best for the kingdom, but she really didn't. She would be a poor queen and Makhvala couldn't even begin to imagine what misfortune would befall the kingdom if Samantha was not required to take a husband. From what she'd seen of her, the girl was far too childish and stubborn in her own views of the world; inflexible, really. Without someone open to change to guide her in her rule, she would be assassinated. At least, that's what Makhvala deduced from their time spent together. "And what makes you think that, _princess_?" she asked wearily, not really caring what the answer would be.

Sam turned to face the guard, her eyes aflame with anger, but tinted with sadness. "You imprisoned Phantom on stupid charges, _Val_. What else would I be talking about?"

"The fact that your parents decreed that I'm to make sure you don't exit the palace, even to go onto the grounds?" Makhvala smirked at the horrorstruck expression on the girl's face. Spoiled brat deserved it. If she'd lived in this kind of palace growing up, Val would never have wanted to leave it anyway.

"They're _WHAT?_"

"You heard me, girl."

Sam narrowed her eyes. Val had been against her from day one. Not like the friendly guards who'd taught her to read after a bit of a bribe. Oh, no, Makhvala was too good to help her fellow woman for mere money. She had _honor_. "Why do you keep calling me 'girl'? You don't look more than a month older than I am."

Val's eyes softened slightly before taking on an even sharper look. "I may look your age, girlie," she taunted, "but I'm older in both years and wisdom." The princess looked like she was going to punch her. Val smirked again; let her try. She spoke the truth; the girl didn't know what she was talking about. "Oh, and by the way, _your majesty_," Val spat the word like it was venom, "your beloved Phantom paid the price his stealing. _Death_."

When Val glanced back at the princess, she looked like she'd just been slapped. Her eyes lost all of the anger as tears welled up. She slumped over into her lap and began shaking, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. Val was shocked; the princess really cared this much about some thief?

"You..." the princess whispered angrily. When she sat back up, Val saw an angry flush across her cheeks as her eyes changed to steel. "You bitch," she spat. "You horrible, horrible bitch. Do you know what you've done?"

"Yeah, _princess_, I killed a thief that should've been taken care of a long time ago." Val was rolling her eyes again by this point; they'd gone over this already. "Sorry if you liked him or whatever, but the law's the law. I'm not going to make an exception on the whim of an inflexible brat like you."

"_I'm_ inflexible?" Sam shrieked, tears still cascading down her cheeks. She stood and walked toward the guard who had invoked her ire. "_You're_ the one who believes that all thieves are complete criminals before you even hear their side of the story. _You're_ the one who can't even get it in your head that they are human beings who need to eat and live and breathe, just like we do. _You're_ the one who sticks so completely to the law that you couldn't see justice if it bit you on the nose!" By this point, the princess was screaming.

"Calm down, your majesty," Val coaxed disgustedly. Of course all thieves were criminal; if you steal, you deserve to die. "Nothing will change if you keep yelling your little head off like that. Just sit down and - "

"Val." Sam said it in such a cold tone that Val immediately stopped speaking. "What if you had no money and the choice was either steal or die?"

"I'd get a job," Val declared. "I wouldn't _have_ to do either. Phantom had that choice. I mean, he could feed himself fine on wages from a camel farm or something."

"What if you had children under your care?"

Val paused. _Children?_ "What?"

"I said, what if you had children under your care, Val." Sam looked up at the guard, her face splotched and wet, but her gaze no less intimidating. "Phantom was providing for twelve orphaned children, his sister, and himself. He was an orphan, too. What choice would you make?"

Val was stunned. She hadn't even thought of the possibility that he was stealing for someone else. The food reported as being stolen by Phantom was enough to feed two people maybe, but not fourteen. She always thought he was just a glutton. She'd never even considered..."I - " She closed her mouth. She had nothing to say to that.

"That's what I thought." Sam began to walk away but paused about a yard away. "Next time," she said, her back still turned, "get all the facts before you send someone to their death."

- - - - - - -

"Skulker," the blue ghost beckoned. Skulker stepped forward, his steel arm outstretched for his benefactor to see. "You have obtained the rune, yes?"

"Yes," Skulker replied. His energy had been recharged by that execution and by the later fight with the ghost that had what he was looking for. He had the rune to show for it. He felt much better about his hunting skills as well, especially since he was about to find this elusive prey.

"Good. Good." The blue ghost quickly brought out a long silver and green knife and copied the rune on Skulker's arm into his own skin. He hissed at the first drop of ectoplasm, but continued carving silently. After a minute, the rune was in place. He brought out a large, round diamond and, dipping into his own ectoplasm, copied the rune in blood on the jewel's surface. Skulker watched as his master acted, a question forming in his mind.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, why are you using the diamond to anchor the transmutation?"

Vlad glanced at his subordinate. The lackeys, useful as they were, were all imbeciles to an extent. But he would not allow the answer to grace his lips. It was his cross to bear, his own secret that he would take to and beyond the grave. "I do mind," he finally replied as the transmutation was made ready. He clutched it in his hand as he muttered something inaudible before the diamond dripped green, a shining, ghostly green. Vlad handed the diamond to Skulker, who regarded the diamond warily.

"The rune will point toward the diamond in the rough," Vlad said after a moment of silence. Placing the jewel in Skullker's outstretched hand, he continued. "I will not tolerate failure, Skulker. Bring the ghsot to me by dawn."

And with that said, Skulker flew out into the night sky with his employer's blood red eyes on him.

- - - - - - -

**A/N** For a transmutation to occur, three things must be present: a transmutation rune, an object to anchor it to, and an incantation to set it off. Humans always need all three. Ghosts, however, have ectoplasm. They can carve the runes into their bdies instead of an object because their bodies, as vessels for ectoplasm, are the anchoring object. This cannot be achieved with human blood because ectoplasm has special alchemic properties to it that blood lacks. Ghosts, also thanks to the ectoplasm, don't need to use incantations once they have mastered that specific transmutation process.

So basically the runes are symbols that represent the transmutations that can occur. The more runes a ghost has, the more power they have the potential to attain. Usually runes are acquired by obliterating the ghost that owns one that you don't., but they can also be shared. Danny can't tap into his ghost powers because he still needs to know the incantation until he masters it. He also has more runes than that, but he's only found one so far.

If anyone still needs more of an explanation, PM me.

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Halaka_ - Arabic for "to die, to perish"


	6. Taara

**A/N** Hey guys! Back again with another chapter. To tell you the truth, I'm not completely ecstatic with this chapter - I'm actually thinking this should have been two chapters instead of just one, but then you'd all hate me because the chapters were just way too short. So here it is and hopefully it doesn't drag on far too long. If it does, I apologize in advance.

Danny may seem a bit OOC in a few places, notably with our good chum Skulker, but note that he's just found out that he was dead and was locked in a room with his dead body for two days. That's bound to make anyone lash out a bit. Also, some of you may be wondering why Danny is so trusting later in this chapter. My answer invokes the first answer with the addition of "he's been through a lot and doesn't have much of a choice anyhow."

Oh, and Danny's incredibly random thoughts re both questios of my own and things that I think his so-fried-it's-crispy brain would think of as well.

If anyone has any trouble understanding anything that's going on, just PM me and I'll do my best to help you out .

**Disclaimer:** I've said it enough times that you all get it, right?

**Chapter Five  
Taara**

Skulker had been flying through the night sky for less than an hour when the jewel began to react. Part of the ghastly green began to drip from it, leaving the topmost bit of the diamond clear. Skulker appeared slightly puzzled before the ectoplasm in the diamond, acting on its own accord, moved east toward the palace. Grinning, Skulker turned around and flew back.

With every second he flew, another drop of ectoplasm fell from the diamond. By the time he approached the palace walls, it became apparent that the ghost was near; about three quarters of the ectoplasm had leaked out.

"Come on," he whispered urgently, watching the liquid move again. "Show me where to find my prey." A few moments went by in silence before the ectoplasm settled on the bottom of the sphere, guiding Skulker into the ground. That was where the dungeons were; perhaps the spirit was haunting the prisoners?

Skulker reappeared in the dark, dank hallway that he knew so well, waiting once more for the jewel to guide him. The little remaining liquid pointed forward before angling sharply to the right. Skulker paused before the large, thick mahogany door before becoming invisible and intangible. _Isn't this the chamber that contains the body of that thief?_ he thought before gliding effortlessly through the door.

It smelled like vomit. With a cursory glance, Skulker easily deduced that no one else, dead or alive, was in the room. But the damned jewel just kept dripping! So, with a barely audible sigh, he walked further in the room, regretting his decision as the stench hit him harder. All that was in the room, other than himself and the vomit, was the body of the prisoner and the shaking burial cloth.

_Wait..._

Burial cloths were not supposed to shake. Skulker, still under the guise of invisibility, crept closer. He realized that he could hear labored breathing and choking from underneath the cloth. Peering beneath it, he saw a hysterical young ghost, paler than most with dark circles around his luminescent green eyes. His face was streaked with ugly tears and he looked like he was in shock, huddled in the fetal position. _Is this the one he's been having me search for?_ Skulker wondered, looking on at the boy in disgust. He had never had much patience for theatrics. _What good would he do?_

Slowly, Skulker lifted the diamond above the boy's head.

The last drop fell from the diamond onto the burial cloth, leaving the diamond pure and clear once more.

Skulker smirked.

He studied the boy's face for a moment before glancing back at the body. _Same body build, same facial structure, same clothes..._This was apparently the ghost of that thieving whelp that he'd taken care of earlier in the week, the one who's execution had lent him power. He knew the kid looked familiar.

_And to think_, Skulker lauded himself, _if I hadn't been the one to kill him, we wouldn't have this "spectral diamond in the rough" with us anyway. My employer will be most pleased._

Quickly, he checked the boy for any signs of power. If he had awakened any of the runes, then Skulker might actually be in trouble. Thankfully, Skulker did not sense any alchemical power surging through the boy's veins, indicating that his ectoplasm was inactive. The situation was, as Skulker saw it, perfect.

Slowly, he faded back into visibility. "Boy," he said quietly, hoping that the ghost was not made...mentally unwell...by his experience. Mad ghosts were never easy to deal with. Wide-eyed, the whelp turned to him, his expression betraying his confusion, fear, and awe. It pleased Skulker that his mere presence could inspire so much emotion.

"Y-yes?" the ghost replied, studdering slightly. It was only to be expected, though; he had apparently spent the last day or so in shock at the sight of his rather mangled body that he, as a ghost, was now detatched from. Personally, Skulker was glad that he had been created as an ectoplasmic entity; he'd never had a death (and, with things going as they were, never would) or a true birth and held onto no memories of life as a human being.

"Do you wish to learn control of your powers?" Skulker asked, his voice nearly inaudible. "I know of a ghost who would be willing to teach you."

The ghost was silent for a few moments before a large sardonic grin passed over his features. "You know," he drawled in a mocking tone, his voice only slightly above a whisper, "I might be more inclined to accept your offer if I wasn't _so fucking traumatized_! I've been sitting next to my very own _decomposing body_ for the past day or so and I have to say, I'm not in the best state of being right now. Although," he conceded, coming down from his crescendo, "I suppose I owe you some gratitude; your presence here gives me slightly more assurance of my sanity."

Skulker could only gape at the...the...the _audacity_ of this boy. How dare he? How _dare_ he mock Skulker, the world's greatest hunter? He had located his prey, had he not? Cornered him, yes? Unfortunately, the plan wouldn't work unless the boy would take the bait, so Skulker wisely kept all of those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, "To tell you the truth, _boy_, I don't care about your mind at this point in time. Truthfully," he sneered, "I really couldn't care any less. But my employer does. He wants you to learn how to use your new powers with ease. And looking at you now, boy, I'd say that that's probably what you want, too."

"Why does your employer care about my well-being at all?" the boy wondered aloud, his face expressionless but for a tick at the corner of his mouth. "I just died; I haven't been able to tap into my powers at all. Not one. So why should I matter at all?"

"He sees potential."

"Potential for what?"

"I am not completely sure," Skulker lied. "But I do know that, without my help, you won't even be leaving this room for the next fifty years."

He held back a smirk as the boy turned away slightly, a look of contemplation settling on his face. He looked like he was truly considering the offer. _Good_. No one spoke for what seemed like hours. All that could be heard was the sound of the wind whipping the sand against the side of the palace. Skulker couldn't wait any longer. The last and strongest piece of bait had yet to be dangled in front of his prey. "What do you want, boy?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"What do I want?" the ghost repeated. He sighed before replying, "A second chance. At...at everything."

"Not power?" Skulker asked, slightly puzzled. What kind of ghost wouldn't trade everything for strength?

The boy shook his head, white hair falling into his eyes. "No, I want to do better than I did. In life. I want to make things right. To do some good in the kingdom."

Skulker was somewhat awed. Truly, he had found the right ghost. The boy was a diamond in the rough, indeed. He would have to think of a suitable answer for the boy to go along with the plan. "My employer has those same goals," he lied again. "He wishes to better the world with his cause and he wants you to help. With him training you, you will have your second chances." He had to admit, he was _smooth_.

Within seconds, the boy stood, his emerald eyes ablaze. "I'll do it."

- - - - - - -

Sam marched down the corridor, fire in her gaze. She was still very upset by he news of Phantom's death; two days had gone by and her heart had not stopped hurting even a little bit. _I should have been able to stop it_, she kept saying to herself, day in and day out. _I should have been able to do something._

She missed him, plain and simple. She missed talking to him before he went out to the marketplace, she missed seeing his smile when he would come home, she missed his sense of humor and his laugh. Now that she'd had a taste of what true freedom was like, it was hard adapting back into the leashed palace life she'd been living for so long.

At least that guard, Makhvala, had been leaving her alone. It had really taken a toll on her emotionally-exhausted nerves to hear her blab on about how much Phantom had deserved his punishment. Oh, she still saw Val around as she has still under house arrest and her parents deemed her presence necessary, but Val had been sure to stay out of the princess's way, choosing to follow her or guard from a distance rather than be up in her face all of the time. It was a welcome change.

But that wasn't what Sam needed to think about right now, pacing down the hall toward the throne room. No, she was intent on giving Phantom a sort of legacy, something that would further his work here on earth before he had left it. She was going to convince her parents that they needed an place for all of the orphaned and abandoned children of Amity to live and and grow up in, a place that would give them food and shelter and love, a place that the wealth of the sultan would finance. If she could do this one thing, then perhaps she could silently avenge Phantom's death.

Taking a deep breath and looking down at her clothes, making sure that they were ones that her mother would approve of, Sam stepped into the throne room.

Her parents were speaking with the royal advisor _yet again_ (it seems like there was never a time when she could catch them alone). Her mother spotted her first. "Sammykins!" she cried, the ridiculous name echoing through the chamber. Sam winced inwardly, but smiled brightly on the outside.

"Hello, mother. Father." She strode up beside them, purposely ignoring the grand vizier to her left. "I have an important issue I would like to discuss with you both, if you have the time." She figured some decent manners before hand would predisposition at least her mother toward her point of view.

"Of course we do, Samantha," the sultan boomed. "What do you have to say?"

Sam took another deep breath, seeing that the clothes and the manners did the trick, before speaking. "While I was...gone...I noticed that there are many children that live on the streets, that are forced to steal in order to remain alive. If we wish to prevent thievery in the kingdom, perhaps we could set up an establishment that could care for these orphans, one where they could - "

"I'm sorry, your majesty," Vlad interrupted, looking anything but sorry, "but where would the money for such and institution come from? Surely you don't mean to ask if your father will spend his own hard-earned, valuable fortune on _orphans_. What good would that do the kingdom?" His oily smile said that he truly enjoyed seeing the princess miserable.

"Well, _Vlad_," she spat, "if you'd been listening to me _at all_, you would have heard that it would significantly reduce the amount of thievery in the kingdom and, therefore, we could cut down on the number of executions every year, which, I am sure, gets expensive, having to pay the executioner for every death dealt."

"Yes, but at what expense?" Vlad countered. "Would the money spent outweigh the money gained? And is there any real way to tell ahead of time if this would have some, if any, goodly response from the citizens of the town? Thieves are, at heart, dark and evil beings who only think about themselves, _therefore_ giving them food does not mean that they will not continue to steal."

"That's not true!" Sam yelled, her face turning an ugly shade of red. "Have you ever met a thief? If you had, you would know that they are not all as heartless as _some_ people who simply _masquerade_ as - "

"That's enough, Samantha." Sam stopped her tirade, still fuming, and turned toward her father. The set of his jaw said everything she needed to know - he wouldn't do it.

"Hey, dad," she hissed, some of the venom coming through her tone, "isn't a ruler's first job to take care of his subjects?" And with that, she stormed off, leaving her elders staring after her.

- - - - - - -

Danny was led down a dark stone hallway by the imposing ghost before him. He had to wonder, how did the ghost get his armor to glow? Was it ghostly armor? Danny supposed it must've been. But even so, did ghostly armor glow on its own or was that the ghost itself that was making it happen? _Hmmm...well, I'm a ghost, right? And I'm glowing. So I can just check my own clothes_. It proved tougher than he would have thought. The glow his own robes emitted may or may not have been from the glow that came from his own skin. Curious beyond anything, Danny slipped one of his arms out of his sleeves - quickly, so as to eliminate any possible suspense. It turned out that yes, ghost clothes and armor actually glowed on their own. _Huh. I wonder what makes it do that_. _Maybe_, Danny thought as an idea lit up in his mind, _it's actually in tune to the ectoplasm of the ghost who's wearing it. Yeah, that would make sense - that way, ghosts don't have to worry about mending any tears in their clothes or cleaning them. But then what if a ghost wants to change outfits? Like what if I wake up one day and decide, huh, I think I'd like to wear blue today? Can ghosts change clothes? Do they even come off?_ Not even paying attention to the fact that his train of thought was rather on the loopy side or to the fact that there was another ghost in the vicinity, Danny slipped his other arm out of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Apparently ghosts could indeed remove their clothing and change outfits at will.

It seems incredible that this, of all topics, was the one that Danny was thinking about being led to some other powerful ghost that he knew next to nothing about. And yet this was what was running through his mind.

It took Danny twenty additional seconds to realize that the armored ghost was now staring at him curiously with an is-he-insane expression. Danny felt his face heat up before putting his shirt back on. Unfortunately for the now-curious ghost, that led down an entirely different train of thought. _Can I actually blush in embarassment? Cause I don't exactly have any blood..._

In another ten minutes or so, the two reached a dead end. The large ghost roughly grabbed his wrist before Danny felt like his stomach had just fallen out of him; looking down, he realized that he couldn't see his body. _I'm invisible_, he realized in awe. That wasn't all. The armored ghost, still gripping Danny's wrist rather tightly, started to rise off the ground with Danny in tow. He began to fly toward the ceiling, accelerating rather than slowing. Danny shut his eyes, awaiting impact, and was pleasantly surprised that there was none. _Of course, _he remembered, mentally slapping himself on the forehead, _ghosts can go through solid objects. What is that called...intangibility?_

Up and up they soared through the night sky, the stars glittering around them. Before long, they had reached a tall tower in the heart of the city, the top of which seemed almost as high as the moon itself and was at least three stories higher than any building, discounting the palace, that Danny had ever seen. They enetred through the eastmost wall before entering a rather lavish study. Books lined the walls while cushy furniture filled the room. Strange objects also adorned the room, including one very tall structure that appeared to be collapsing in on itself and yet was still standing.

"Ah, so you have finally decided to join us," spoke a voice. A figure stepped out from the shadows, fading easily into view. He looked about as slick as he sounded. Despite his obvious lack of life, the ghost exuded a very regal air about him. His skin was a pale, deathly shade of blue with stark glowing eyes the color of flames. Fangs protruded from the corners of his lips, making Danny wonder if he was, or had once been, one of the vampyres that his parents used to tell him about. He wore a simple but elegant cape, white as the stars, with a simple black belt around his waist. The way his lips curved looked more like a smirk than a smile to Danny. "Thank you for your assistance, Skulker. You shall receive your reward shortly."

The armored ghost, or Skulker, nodded before flying off through the wall once more. Danny found the silence left in the wake of his departure rather unnerving, but decided against being the first to speak. After all, the ghost seemed to know mre about Danny than Danny knew about him, which always set Danny on guard.

"Have a seat, m'boy," the ghost spoke at last, waving his arm in a vague gesture. Danny hesitated, but soon foound the comfiest-looking chair and sunk down into it. The blue ghost stepped toward hi before choosing a seat directly across from Danny. "Do you know who I am?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "No," he replied honestly. "Should I?"

The blue ghost chuckled mirthlessly. "No, I don't suppose you should," he muttered, seeming almost like it was more to himself than to Danny. "Well, since you are now my subordinate (and don't argue with me on that as I have allowed for you to be set free), you may call me Masters. 'Master' sounds much too stuffy; the 's' makes it slightly more informal, don't you agree?" Danny could only nod; was this ghost a fruit loop or what? "And what should I call you, son?"

"Um," Danny began eloquently. "You can call me Phantom." _Now it makes even more sense than it did before_, he thought ironically.

"Phantom. Yes, of course. Now, then," Masters began once more, folding his hands and placing his elbows on either knee, "I have a job for you, Phantom. Fortunately for you, this job will require you to have a bit more knowledge of your ghostly powers than you currently do, so I am going to teach you what you will need to know to carry out this task for me. Agreed?"

"What exactly is it I'm supposed to be doing?" Danny asked, caution in his tone.

"Oh, you'll find out in good time, boy," Masters answered vaguely. "But right now, what I need from you is information. How long ago did you die? Am I correct in assuming that you are a relatively new spirit?"

"Uh, yes, actually," Danny replied in surprise. Just how much _did_ this Masters guy know about him? "I died two days ago in the palace."

"In the palace, hmm? Interesting..." Masters looked lost in thought for a moment before snapping his attention back to Danny. "Have you noticed any strange symbols appearing on your skin since your death?"

"You mean the runes?" Now it was Masters's turn to look surprised. Apparently he had expected him to be a complete novice. That at least meant that Masters didn't have all the information Danny thought he might have access to. "I've only found one so far, it's on my right elbow and it's the one for invisibility. I thought I saw two or three thers, but I couldn't completely mae them out." Yes, Masters was definitely looking surprised and even slightly impressed.

"How is it that you know so much about the runes?" inquired Masters, astonished that he didn't have to explain the concept to this fledgling ghost.

"Let's just say that I have a background in alchemy."

"Alright, well, since you obviously understand the alchemical principals behind ghost energy, I assume that you must not have activated any powers with an incantation, yes?"

Danny sat up straighter in his seat. "You must have them, right? Are you passing them on to me?"

Masters smiled an oily smile. "Only if you swear to use them to aid me in the task I have set for you."

_Without telling me what it is?_ "If you can't tell me what the task itself is, then can you tell me what it will accomplish?"

Masters leaned back into his chair, his smirk becoming more pronouced but his eyes conveying no emotion. He allowed the silence to linger before shattering it with a rasping whipser. "A better world."

Looking intently at Masters, Danny could not see any lie in the ghost's visage. Nodding his head, he said, "Okay. I'll do what you need me to do."

"Excellent." Masters stood abruptly and walked swiftly over to Danny. Once he was situated next to him, he spoke directly in his ear: "Ashfael liorit." Stepping away, he added, "Touch the rune as you say it."

Danny reached around his elbow with his left hand to touch the rune. Closing his eyes, he spoke. "Ashfael liorit." He opened one eye slightly to see a small green light oozing out from the rune. From the tip of his elbow extending outwarads, Danny's body was beginning to disappear right before his very eyes. It quickened its pace after engulfing his right shoulder and continued to swallow his body until he was no longer visible. Danny noticed that, when making oneself invisible rather than being made invisible by someone else, it didn't have any stomach-dropping side effects. Vaguely, he wondered how he reversed the process.

Almost instantly, his body popped back into visibility all at once. Masters stepped towards Danny again and held an arm out as though to shake his hand. Danny hestiantly began to raise his own hand before Masters swiftly yanked Danny around by the neck. "Ah, here's another," Masters said, poking Danny in the back of the neck. "This is for intangibility. The phrase is 'Rophaus voel.' "

Danny repeated the phrase and felt himself become substantially lighter, as though he was a part of the air. Of course, being a seventeen-year-old male, he stuck his hand through his stomach before accidentally becoming tangible again. He had to repeat the incantation twelve times after that to truly get the hang of it and allow his ectoplasm to mold to the transmutation.

Masters said that he couldn't find one for flight, so he reached behind a large book to reveal a large silver and green knife. He crudely drew the rune on Danny's skin in charcoal before saying that a ghost must draw the rune himself if he does not obtain it through battle. Unwilling and rather grossed out, Danny plunged the knife into his arm, watching with morbid fascination as green leaked out from where red had once been. Tracing over the drawing Masters had provided, Danny found himself with a third rune right behind his left kneecap.

Flight was the one power Danny was most looking forward to being able to use. Imagine his disappointment when Masters said that the wound had to be given time to heal over unless a ghost had a transmutation for increased healing abilities. In any case, Danny was forced to wait before he could start to fly.

- - - - - - -

"WOOHOO!"

Danny had been training with Masters for about three days now, each day tearing the skin of his arm in the strange symbol until it bled ectoplasm. Apparently, the ectoplasm actually bonded to the tissue each time it scarred over, allowing the rune to finally take hold. After those three days of learning how to control his invisibility and intangibility powers well enough, the tissue had finally begun to scar over, leaving the rune in Danny's forearm permanantly.

After Masters had given Danny the incantation, Danny began to hover off the ground before falling on his ass. It took him a few tries before he could finally control how long he stayed and what direction he moved in, but then it became almst second nature. Soon enough, he was ready to try out his powers and see just how fast he could fly. He was having the time of his afterlife.

He soared up through the city, purposely avoiding the areas he knew, before sweeping into a graceful arc toward the sun. He began to spiral in his ascent, tracing an invisible vertical line up into the sky. Suddenly, he dove straight down, faking left to head toward the palace. Again, he avoided the palace, knowing that being near it, and whomever happened to be inside of it, would put a damper on his mood; instead, he leapt over top of it in a dolphin dive-esque move. Turning eastward, he prepared to go back to Master's tower.

"Well, done, m'boy," Masters said. "Well done. So, now that you've had your test run, I believe that it's time for you to help me with that errand I spoke of three days ago."

Danny nodded, his face still showing his excitement at being able to fly. It really was he best feeling in the world - the wind crackling through his ears, the sun in his eyes, the view. It was an incredible high from which he was finding it hard to come down. "Just tell me what to do."

Masters hid a smirk as he turned to his bookshelf once more. He removed a book, titled "1001 Arabian Bites - A Collection of Recipes from the Arabian Peninsula," and opened it, revealing that the book was actually hollow. He pulled out what looked like a broken pocketwatch, shattered neatly in two. Danny was confused. _If he wanted his watch repaired, why would he come to _me_? I have no idea how to fix clocks._ "Phantom," Masters beckoned, his eyes still set on the halves of the watch in his hand. "When I put these two halves together, we are both going to follow it by flight."

Now Danny was even more confused. _What the hell?_ "Um. Okay." He didn't know what Masters was expecting to happen; it was just a watch, after all.

If Danny had blinked, he would have missed it.

The two halves began to glow as soon as they had been meshed together, rising a few inches off of Masters's palm before literally shooting out of his hand, through the wall, and toward the desert. Masters had already begun his flight after it, as if sensing where it would take him, before Danny got up the wits to follow after him. His jaw was hanging so low that he was literally catching flies.

"What is going on?" Danny yelled over the roar of the wind to his companion. If this didn't take the cake...

"You'll see when we get there, boy," Masters replied, his voice no louder than usual and yet still audible over the wind. Danny simply shrugged and followed. If whatever it was that he was doing was going to help the world, then he would do whatever it took.

Soon enough, they came to the desert, still chasing after the pocketwatch which was, by now, merely a speck of green against the landscape. Sand storms were picking up around the two ghosts and Danny would have been much worse for wear if he hadn't remembered that, as a ghost, he could go intangible and allow the sand to fly right through him. Another two miles or so out in the desert, the pocketwatch dived into the sand, making Danny really wonder why the hell they had just chased something across the desert for it just to disappear on them. And then suddenly, he had his answer.

The two halves resurfaced on either side of a sand dune, glowing even brighter than they had been before. The dune itself stretched and rose, assuming the facade of a giant clock, all of the numbers around its face glowing an iridescent green. An entranceway stood at the bottom of the clock, where a large VI should have been.

"Holy shit," Danny whispered to himself. What in hell was this? It was honestly the strangest and most awe-inspiring moment he had ever been conscious for.

His entire body shaking, Danny took a step forward.

Immediately, the X and the II glared at him like cold, all-seeing eyes. The entryway began to move as though it was a mouth. "_Who dares enter the Sands of Time?_" it boomed, its clockface eyes glittering like glass beneath the midday sun.

_The Sands of..._Danny's eyes widened, whipping his head around to look at Masters. His expression was that of total enrapturement, his gaze never wavering from that of the clock. _I've heard of them before. Where have I heard of them? What is the story? _He vaguely remembered the outline of a woman in a doorway, likely his mother, saying something about it to him when he was very young, probably as a bedtime story. He couldn't remember any details, only that, if it was told to him by his parents, then it obviously had some paranormal and ghostly significance. _Well, duh. That's been made pretty clear_. Clearing his throat, Danny took another step toward the giant clock. "It is I, Phantom of Amity."

The eyes continued to gaze down at him, as though looking through his heart. It was silent for a long time. Then: "_Touch nothing but the lamp_," it replied with a slight softening around the eyes.

Danny glanced back at Masters as though asking for permission. "The lamp is all I want, boy," Masters hissed. "Bring me the lamp."

Nodding, Danny walked up to the face of the clock. It looked as though it was breathing, with the way it was heaving up and down. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Danny walked confidently through the mouth of the clock.

A long, winding stairway, suspended in the air, held by nothing but sheer willpower, greeted him as he entered the Sands. Never having been one for patience, Danny decided to fly to his destination rather than walk. Some of the things he saw, though, were almost enough to make his disobey both the warnings of the Sands and of Masters. The first chamber he entered after passing the stairway was filled with silver. Nothing else. Piles upon piles of pure, undiluted silver, used to make chandeliers, candlesticks, bricks, and more. It was all thrown on top of itself and each other, giving the impression that it was the garbage pile of the place. Danny couldn't even fathom how that could be. _This entire room is probably half of the sultan's wealth when it's all added up_, he thought. _How is it that someone could treat it so carelessly?_

As he entered the second chamber, he could see why. This room was filled top to bottom, left to right, front to back, with gold. All of it pure, 24 karat gold, made in coins and chests and baths and thrones. This was arranged much more majestically and aesthetically pleasing than the silver room. "Just a handful of this would make me richer than the sultan," Danny observed in awe. "This whole room would be enough for me to own the world." It was tempting, to say the very least, but Danny managed to keep his hands to himself and fly out of the room without so much as a leaf of gold as big as his fingernail.

The third room was filled with emeralds. The fourth contained only sapphires as blue as the sky. The fifth had sapphires as well, but these were as dark as the night. The sixth chamber held only rubies, all of them blazing like flames. Danny was beginning to see a pattern.

The seventh chamber he entered was filled with tapestries woven with gold and silver, ruby and sapphire, depicting incredible scenes of ghost and human living together in peaceful existence. He had to pause at the last one, that of a girl with sparkling amethyst eyes with a startling likeness to the princess...Shaking his head, he continued in silence, hoping that this quest would find him a way to win her acceptance in this form and, maybe, her heart.

The eighth room didn't allow him to forget as much as he would have liked. This was the amethyst chamber, all of it the same color as Sam's eyes. This chamber he flew through as quickly as he could.

Number nine was filled with paintings of swirling spral vortexes and ghastly green ghosts. Some of them were so realistic that Danny feared that one of them migt actually be real, just waiting for the right time to end his existence completely. Ten was filled with both ivory and pearl, includig the most beautiful ad dealy-looking sword Danny had ever lain eyes upon. Eleven contained what appeared to be the most collosal library ever constructed. The Sands certainly did try ad tempt all sorts. Twelve contained an alabaster tomb surrounded by amber, apples, and thorns.

The thirteenth, and presumably the final, chamber, was apparently empty. Compared to the other chambers, it was severely lacking in both light and substance. Danny had to squint in the darkness to be able to see anything at all. From the glow emanating from his own body, he saw the dull shine of something in the dark. Carefully stepping up to it, he reached down and touched something. He picked it up and headed back into the twelfth chamber, which had much more light.

In his hand was a beat up, dirty brass oil lamp. "This is is?" Danny wondered aloud. "This is what I came down here for? _This_ is all I'm allowed to touch? What a rip-off." He leaned up against the tomb, the lamp dangling from one finger.

"_FOOL!_" the voice of the Sands roared, shaking the chamber and making Danny jump. "_YOU WERE TO TOUCH NOTHING BUT THE LAMP! NOW YOU SHALL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!"_

Danny's eyes widened. "But I didn't - " He was interrupted by a loud rumbling below him. Quickly, he took to the air, his feet dangling above the precipice that had formed where he had just been standing. _I've gotta get out of here!_ he thought frantically as he zoomed out through each chamber, watching all of the treasures melt before his eyes.

He made it to the stairway and saw the entrance to the clock. Masters was looking more harried than Danny had ever seen him, appearing as though he was going to start foaming at the mouth any moment. "GIVE ME THE LAMP, BOY!" he shouted over the collapse of the cave. "GIVE ME THE LAMP!"

Danny rushed to get to the mouth of the Sands, but just as he had thought he was going to make it, the mouth caved inwards, a large chunk of the stairs flying up to smack him in the head. As everything started to fade to black, he didn't even realize that the lamp was still clutched tightly in his hand.

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Taara_ - Arabic for "to fly"

_Ashfael _- nonsense

_Liorit_ - Hebrew for "my light, I see"

_Rophaus_ - nonsense

_Voel_ - Dutch for "to feel"


	7. Ektashafa

**A/N** And we're back! I'm fairly sure that the wait will always have to be fairly long as school is conuming nearly all of my time. So yes. Just fr future notice. I swear, I'm not doing it to kill you! It's life getting in the way of fiction and fantasy!

So one of my favorite characters finally appears in this scene. He feels a tad OOC, mostly because it's all of the introduction crap and everything, but he'll get better, I promise.

And as for the anachronism...the character can time travel if he wants to. In fact, he explains it within the chapter. Deal.

Thank you to all of my fantastic reviewers who I love dearly and with all my heart: YOUR LOVING SISTER, Ummari the Cranky CommonSenseless24, kpfan72491, pearl84, Nubecula, bloodmoon13, jellyb33n, secret spy guy, FunkyFish1991, Me-agaisnt-the-world, AmethystOcean, Arabic Blessing, DramaQueen4eva, Kurumi-chan, captainjackluver14, perpetually indecisive (my sister), symbolic moons, Valeira, HikaruOfDreams, ILoveDerekAndCasey, and swiftwind. You guys make my days brighter.

By the way, I've had many different reviews from this "reader" and I can't tell if it's more than one person. So, for now, I thank you as one entity.

**Disclaimer:** I own only the story and the coolness of alchemy within the story. No DP for me. But life goes on...

**Chapter Six  
Ektashafa**

Ten years. Ten years of plotting, of killing, of dying, of hiding, of controlling, of searching...all wasted. Vlad stared down at the mound of sand, currently no taller than his waist, and felt anger and rage seep into his demeanor. He hardly heard himself scream into the night, couldn't tell when he had risen five feet off the ground, didn't feel the energy leaving his hand as he aimed a powerful blast of ectoplasmic power at the now-meaningless pile of sand.

He felt like he was going to vomit. His head was spinning, forcing him quickly back to the ground as his side caught the brunt of the fall. He hoisted himself up onto his hands shakily, narrowing his eyes at the spot beneath him. The spot where the Sands of Time had been standing erect mere minutes before.

It seemed like a lifetime or two had passed before Vlad was able to stand again. He turned his eyes heavenward as if in prayer before rapidly lifting his arm to shatter the peace with a magenta blast. Moments later, the hunter appeared like the good lackey he was. Skulker saw the anger in the ghost's face and knew better than to approach.

Vlad forced his crimson gaze on his ashen compatriot before slowly and deliberately striding over to him. If Skulker had felt the need to watch his face rather than his hands, he would have seen the bubbling rage virtually melt away from his countenace, leaving his with a slight semblance of peace quickly replaced by a rather disturbing and mallicious grin.

"Skulker," Vlad purred, his voice almost lost in the howling of the sand. "Sand is a form of matter, correct? A solid?"

Openly puzzled, Skulker nodded his head slowly. "Yes. Sand is just worn-away stone." He hadn't a clue as to where this was going, but knew that his employer rarely would just ask a question like that without reason.

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Vlad angled his head slightly toward the mound beside him. "And, as ghosts, we have the ability to pass through solids. Yes?"

Skulker merely grunted in affirmation. He had an idea as to where this was going, after all.

"Then it stands to reason," Vlad continued, his smirk widening marginally, "that, as ghosts, we can pass through sand." Skulker was already hovering above the sand that Vlad had indicated in preparation. "I want the lamp and only the lamp," he instructed as he watched his employee disappear beneath the rock dust.

His plans would succeed after all. How foolish of him to think that such a cave, something surrounded by sand and made of stone, would be completely impenetrable. How childish, even. Destiny and desire are forever within reach; all he would have to do was snatch it at the right moment and everything he'd ever wanted and more would be his. _Mine,_ he thought, victory already clouding his mind. _I will be a Midas - everything I touch and everything that I do will be turned to gold and profit and power. _

He found the next few seconds unbearably long as he waited without patience for Skulker to emerge. His eyes glowed with excitement to see the top of his employee's flamed hair. What came next, however, was the third biggest disappointment of his life.

Skulker was empty-handed.

"Sir," Skulker began, his eyes averted, "there appears to be some sort of shield that I am unable to penetrate."

Destiny and desire were just out of arm's reach once again. Vlad saw red.

- - - - - - -

All that came to his mind as he gradually cames to his senses was along the lines of _OW_. His head hurt so much that, had he decided to open his eyes, his wouldn't have been able to see straight. Worse than when he had been knocked out, worse than when he had died..._Where am I?_ Danny stayed where he was for a few minutes longer, laying down on a bed of rather sharp and pointy rocks and massaging his scalp with a single hand, before bringing his other hand up to his head to join the first. Unfortunately, that hand was a bit preoccupied.

The clang of the brass against his forehead did nothing to lessen Danny's headache. "OW!" It did, however, remind him of what he had been doing to get himself in such a predicament as this. _The Sands of Time_. Danny opened his eyes, surprised that he could see anything in the darkness, yet attributed it to his own personal glow.

"What happened?" Danny asked himself as he looked around at his surroundings. Jagged stalactites dripped from the ceiling like icicles, framing the mouth of the cave with teeth. The illusion was completed by the millions of stalagmites sticking up from the rocky, sandy ground. The cave itself wasn't more than 30 yards wide or deep, yet extended over 50 yards above his head. _That'll be fun to try and climb later..._

_Wait a second_, he thought to himself, his green eyes brightening momentarily. _I'm a ghost. I can just fly my way out, right? Good thing Masters taught me well._

Puffing up his chest, hardly feeling the light brass object in his left hand, Danny briefly closed his eyes as he worked on surrendering to intangibility, becoming no more than a sentient part of the air. Once that was taken care of and out of the way, he concentrated again, this time on levitating. As soon as he could feel his feet leaving the ground, he flung his arms to his sides and, like an arrow shot out from a bow, flew straight up toward the top of the cave.

Only to come crashing down almost immediately.

Again, for some inexplicable reason, his head was hurting. "OWWW!" It didn't make sense; he'd been at least two yards away from any of the stalactites. What had he hit? Tentatively this time, and much slower, Danny again flew up toward the ceiling. His hands were raised above his head, feeling for anything strange that might block him from his destination. About two yards from the top of the cave, he felt something. It was hard to explain exactly what it felt like; _it's kind of like a vibrating piece of unbreakable diamond glass. _Moving to the left, to the right, forward, and back, Danny could see that the shield or whatever it was would prevent him from leaving his own personal purgatory.

"So I'm stuck in here for eternity?" Danny questioned aloud, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't the truth. Then again, he was a ghost. It wasn't as though he'd have anything better to do, did he? Resigned, he decided to take a look around his eternal home.

It appeared as though everything from inside the cave had been mostly, if not completely, destroyed. There were bits and pieces of melted, semi-cooled shards of the vibrant, radiant jewels he had seen only hours before. _Was it even hours?_ he asked in his mind, allowing his eyes to scan over the brightly colored gem bits. _I could've been out for days, weeks...years..._As incredibly frightening as the thought was to him, Danny simply shoved that idea back down and continued to look at his surroundings.

"What's that?" he wondered as he saw a piece of violet peeking out from beneath a rather large boulder. He paused for a moment, amused, before adding, "I'm going to turn into one of those people who talk to themselves all the time, aren't I?" He resumed his walk toward the boulder. It was at least twice his height and likely one thousand times his weight, especially if becoming a ghost made him any lighter. _Being dead'll do that to you_, he mused as he quickly made the boulder intangible and allowed it to sink into the ground. He allowed himself a look at what had been beneath it.

It was a part of that last tapestry, a bit of the shards of amethyst having made their way onto it inexplicably. The girl. The one with violet eyes. The one who looked like his princess. _MY princess? Psh, yeah. Right. I'm trapped in here for all eternity_, he reminded himself. _Besides, she wouldn't be mine if I wasn't in here, so what's the point in thinking about it? _Still, looking at the tapestry, the way the ghoulish green light from his skin played over her features, made him instantly miss human company. Especially hers.

He brought his left hand out to caress the doppleganger's cheek before loosely realizing that his left hand was holding something. Looking at it closer, he wondered why he was currently holding some sort of oil lamp. Beat up, real ugly, no use to anyone anymore. Then he remembered.

_The thirteenth, and presumably the final, chamber, was apparently empty. Compared to the other chambers, it was severely lacking in both light and substance. Danny had to squint in the darkness to be able to see anything at all. From the glow emanating from his own body, he saw the dull shine of something in the dark. Carefully stepping up to it, he reached down and touched something. He picked it up and headed back into the twelfth chamber, which had much more light. _

In his hand was a beat up, dirty brass oil lamp. "This is it?" Danny wondered aloud. "This _is what I came down here for? This is all I'm allowed to touch? What a rip-off." He leaned up against the tomb, the lamp dangling from one finger._

_"_FOOL!_" the voice of the Sands roared, shaking the chamber and making Danny jump. "_YOU WERE TO TOUCH NOTHING BUT THE LAMP! NOW YOU SHALL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!_"_

_Danny's eyes widened. "But I didn't - "_

Apparently he did. Touching that tomb had been a stupid mistake. But not so stupid as to go and, let's see, risk his life for a dirty old oil lamp! Danny couldn't believe that this...this..._worthless_ piece of _junk_ could possibly be so valuable to Masters.

In his frustration at himself and his own perceived stupidity, Danny started to squeeze the handle of the lamp before gathering up enough momentum to completely throw it across the cave. He could hear it as it hit the other side, but couldn't see it as he had collapsed on the floor, he knees finally giving out on him, and nearly made himself bald with the amount of hair he was currently trying to pull from his scalp.

What he didn't notice, however, was that he had inadvertantly rubbed his hand against the object by throwing it.

Across the cave, unseen by Danny in his hysterical fit, the lamp began gently vibrating, filling the stagnant air with a light humming noise as it rattled against the stone floor. It also went unheard, as the maddenig grunts of frustration coming from Danny were bouncing off the walls, echoing in the semi-darkness. Soon, however, the lamp started getting loud enough that even Danny's wails could not drown it out. Danny was finally acknowledging it, giving it the attention it needed. By this point, it was shaking so violently that it was currently bouncing between stalagmites as it made its way toward Danny somehow, as if aware of both his existence and its own. _But that would be impossible. It's only a lamp. Right?_

Wrong. Danny's attention was fixated purely on the lamp, his eyes widening, when a light patch of orange steam or smoke began bubbling out of its mouth. Danny could tell it wasn't of a ghostly sort of energy; his ghost sense was dormant for now, but, more importantly, ghosts were not, and never could be, orange.

Transfixed in fascinated horror, Danny watched as the smoke slowly began taking shape. Piece piece, like the completion of a puzzle, except that Danny had no idea of what would come of this puzzle. Instead, he settled for watching as the smoke settled into a humanoid shape.

His skin was a warm mocha, lighter than the coffee beans in the marketplace but darker than the wooden crate they were kept in. Aqua eyes, vaguely reminiscent of the shade of Jazz's eyes, peered over two pieces of connected glass perched atop his nose. His hair, blacker than Danny's in life, was about an inch high with a strange red cap adorned on top. He wore little: an adorned yellow, almost golden, vest, a olive green sash around his waist, and a pair of golden hoops in his right ear. He had no need for pants, you see, as he had no legs; instead, he kept an incorporeal tail that traced back to the lamp from which he had sprung.

"WOOHOO!" he shouted in truimph, pumping its fist into the air before doing some strange movement that involved fisting his hands and moving them about in front of his in a circular motion. Danny was confused. He watched the boy...man...thing carry on for a minute or two before it turned abruptly to face him, its face friendly but rather manic. "You know the drill; just let it be awhile before you use up the second. I like me some freedom!"

Danny's confusion must have etched itself onto his face at some point because the entity in front of his was looking less manic by the second. All Danny could choke out was a feeble "...What?" before the entity jumped back in.

"You mean...you don't know?" The guy's jaw had dropped so far that it hit the ground. Literally. Danny stared at the extra yard of jaw that should not have been there under any natural circumstances. Was it just him or was the day getting weirder by the second? The thing suddenly looked suspicious, crossing its arms over its chest. "Okay, then, bub, what are you doin' _here_ in this _specific_ predicament if you have no idea who...what I am?" he asked, almost defensively.

"Recruited to...to get the lamp," Danny swallowed, pointing to the lamp to which the thing was still connected.

"_Ohhh_," the thing breathed, comprehension dawning in both voice and face. "Then I suppose I'd better explain. You might want to sit down," he added with a glance at Danny, who looked a bit shaky on his feet. Making sure that Danny was properly seated on the tip of one of the less-sharp stalagmites, the thing backed up a few steps before snapping its fingers. Instantly, he grew three times in size, declaring in a big a powerful voice, "I AM TUKUPASYA, THE MIGHT AND ALL-POWERFUL GENIE!" Suddenly poofing back to his original form and size, he finished, "But you can call me Tuck."

Danny stared. And stared. And stared. For a full minute, Danny just looked at the young man who had just presented himself as a genie before breaking out, laughing. "A genie? They don't exist!" Danny established, holding his stomach as it began to ache from his chuckles and guffaws. "They're just from stories!"

Tuck merely raised an eyebrow pointedly, his aqua eyes sparkling from his own orange glow. "So, you mean that they don't exist? Like ghosts?"

"Exactly. Like gho - " Danny stopped short of making a complete fool of himself. Ghosts did exist. He was (almost) living proof of that. So who's to say that genies weren't real? Certainly not him, who had seen more strange and paranormal things in the past few days than he had in the rest of his entire life. "Okay," Danny acquiesed, "so you're a genie. Does that mean I get wishes or something?"

"I was getting to that," Tuck replied, slightly irritable. He somehow (magically, Danny supposed), reached a hand back into the lamp, before extending his entire arm up to the shoulder into the small bit of brass. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated on getting whatever it was he was currently hellbent on finding. His face lit up as he pulled out a metallic object that seemed crafted especially to fit just so in the palm of his hand. "Okay," he said, touching the top with a finger and smirking at whatever had come up. At Danny's look, he added, "It's a device from the future - as a genie, I've had people make all sorts of weird wishes. This little baby is called a Personal Digital Assiastant - PDA." He ignored Danny's blank look and continued on.

"As a genie, I am bound to whomever uses the lamp. Genies give their masters three wishes and then, when the master is done, the genie is sucked back into the lamp." Tuck said all of this in a bored, rushed tone, as though he didn't really want to go through all of the deatils. Clearing his throat, he snapped his fingers.

An image appeared in front Danny, showing a genie snapping his fingers as the person beside him dropped dead. "That's not allowed," Tuck provided. "No murder. Genies can't do that."

He snapped his fingers again, showing the image change as the genie within it snapped, allowing the dead figure beside it to rise, a sickly greenish pall to its face and skin. "Also not allowed," Tuck murmured. "Bringing people back from the dead - no can do."

Once more, Tuck snapped his fingers, this time the image changing completely. A genie stood beside a young man and a young woman. As the genie snapped, a heart appeared over both of their heads as they leaned in to kiss. Funny, if Danny angled his head to the right a bit, the two almost looked like him and..."And finally, no wishing for love!" Tuck declared, putting his PDA away in his sash as he snapped a final time. The image disappeared before Danny's eyes. "Any questions?"

"Yeah. You said three wishes, right?"

"Yup. Three wishes."

"Can one of those be a wish for more wishes?"

"...No."

"Oh."

Danny sat still for awhile, trying to process everything he'd just heard. A genie? Catering to his whims? What would be a good wish to start out with? That whole "wish for more wishes" thing was really just the only thing that came to mind. Especially since he couldn't wish for love. Or life. Or anything worth having. Oh, he could wish for money, but he was a ghost - he could just as easily steal and not worry about the consequences. He could wish for food, but he was a ghost - he didn't need to eat. He could wish for a way out of the damned cave, but he...was...

A way out! That's what he could wish for! _But doesn't that kind of waste the wish? _Danny pondered. _I mean, I could use that wish on anything. But I need to be able to get out before I can do anything. How can I make this work for me?_ Danny remained in thought for a few more minutes before a grin split his face. He had an idea.

"Hey. Tuck, was it?"

"Yeah," the genie replied casually, before straightening up. "Er, I mean, yes, Master, sir!" he saluted.

Danny laughed. "You really don't have to do that," he insisted. He was, after all, a poor boy at heart. He didn't need such acclamation from someone that likely had more power tha he could even dream of. "I'm Ph - You know what? Call me Danny."

"Short for Daniel?" Danny nodded. "I knew a guy named Daniel a while back. Nice guy. Really had a thing for cats." Tuck shook his head, clearing his thoughts before looking back at his new master. "You were saying...?"

"You said I couldn't wish for someone to be completely and totally brought back from the dead, am I correct?"

Tuck nodded vigorously, his brow crinkling in disgust. "You have no idea how disgusting it is to have the living dead walking around everywhere. It's vile, man. Innards dripping out, skulls only barely remaining attached to the necks, hair and skin falling off in giant clumps of - "

"YOU CAN STOP NOW." Danny was now feeling a little queasy, thanks in no small part to Tuck. "But what about being partly alive?"

"Partly alive?" Puzzlement marred the genie's features. "How do you mean, exactly?"

"Well," Danny began. "I'm dead, right?" Tuck nodded. "And I used to be alive, right?" Tuck nodded. "But you can't make me alive again, right?" For a third time, Tuck nodded, not quite getting what his new master was driving at. "Then what would happen if," Danny began as he started pacing the length of the room, "I wished to be half-alive, half-dead? Only part-human. The other part-ghost."

Referring to his PDA once more, Tuck managed to search for at least ten minutes before looking in amazement at Danny. "Dude," he exclaimed in awe. "You just found a loophole in the system! Now...how to best exploit it..." Tuck was now the one in thought for a minute, searching all of the information he had at his disposal before turning back to Danny, a maniacal grin once more distorting his face. "Danny, try wishing for half-humanity while still 'having the full extent of your ghostly powers.' It might hurt a bit, but trust me when I say it will be well worth it."

Confused, Danny simply repeated what he'd been told to say. "Tuck, I wish for half of my life back, giving me half-humanity while still leaving me with the full extent of ghostly powers." As soon as the last word left his lips, Danny felt like every surface on his body below the face was being split open. An agonized scream tore from his throat as he was slammed with his humanity once more, doubling over as the wounds all along his body left him in an even weaker condition. Red and green dripped from him, his sides, his legs, his arms, his back, his torso, and entwined together in a murky brown as they dropped to the ground of rock and sand beneath him. His eyes shifted back and forth, back and forth, blue and green, blue and green. He felt like he was going to vomit from everything that was happening to him. And then, suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped. The wounds clotted, the green remained, and the consciousness came back to Danny. Gulping down air like he'd never again have the chance, Danny turned to Tuck, wide-eyed, and opened his mouth to inhale.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Danny screamed at the top of his lungs, managing to shake the cave enough that some debris came rattling down from above. He was still shaky from the intense pain from mere moemnts before, and collapsed onto the ground onto which his blood and ectoplasm had leaked.

Tuck stood stock still for less than a second before running his mouth at top speed. "See that was the combined effort of ripping away half of your ghost body replacing it with living feeling flesh and humanity and making you more powerful in the process I had no idea it would be so painful I guess that's why no one has ever done it before and before you ask yes I did say that you were now more powerful blood and ectoplasm is from a carving of all of the runes into your body allowing you greater potential but not giving you the incantations or anything so you should be happy and fine and everything is wonderful and peachy!" Somehow, he had managed to cram everything into one breath.

"Wait," Danny interrupted, "you mean that these will all be runes? And I'll have all of these powers?"

Tuck, now calmed down and with his hand looking like it was itching to get back to using that PDA thing of his, replied, "Yes and no. They are there to define potential, but you still need the incantations and the practice. Although I can tell you that these, made by magic, will stay forever, so no need to make them scar."

_At least that's one thing to be grateful about_, Danny thought. "Okay," he responded, still very much overwhelmed by the sheer mass of information he had just received. "So how do I turn human? What's the incantation for that?"

Smiling, Tuck reached out a finger and touched a new marking on the top of Danny's right hand. It glowed for a second before dying down again. "No incantation needed," Tucker replied sunnily, his face showing some measure of cheer. "Just concentrate."

Two rings of pure white light, bright as the sun, encircled Danny's body. With one running from top to bottom and the other moving from bottom to top, the rings met in the middle, changing everything that they passed. Danny's hair returned to its natural black color, his eyes once again their lovely and irregular shade of blue, and his pasty, almost pastier than before, white skin. It was an incredible sight to watch as he switched colors, traits, personalities. "Wow," was all Danny could use to describe it. And, indeed, the one word summed it up quite nicely.

Danny took a moment to admire his humanity before tucking the lamp safely in his shirt before changing once more. "Hey, what are you doing?" Tuck asked as Danny began to levitate.

"You'll see," was his only response. Tuck raised an eyebrow; just what kind of master would this half-dead guy be?

Quickly, Danny dove beneath the ground, stopping just short of where he could feel the barrier below him. With all of the speed he had learned that he possessed, he flew straight up toward the top of the cave once again, as though he had not learned his lesson from his first sttempt to break though the cave roof. He looked like a bullet ready to strike its opponent, gaining speed until...he stopped. Midair, only about a yard away from the top of the shield, he changed back into his human form. Momentum allowed him enough time to get through the barrier as a human, yet, thankfully, stopped just short of his impaling himself on one of the stalactites. He quickly turned into a ghost once more above the barrier, speeding away from the cave and all of its untold, destroyed treasures.

Tuck still wasn't sure what he should think about this kid. But from that stunt that Danny had just pulled off, Tuck could tell that this would be...interesting.

- - - - - - -

**A/N** Anticipated Questions and Answers

_What do you mean, "Danny's got all the runes?" Wouldn't that give him all of the powers that a ghost can have? Does that make him Super Ghost and make it so he can defeat everyone in one fell swoop? And, most importantly, does it ruin Christmas?  
_Danny has been granted every single rune that a ghsot can have all at once, which is why he was cut all over - it must be scarred into his skin. BUT he does not have the incantations yet, s they are useless to him (for now). It does mean that he now has the potential to become the most pwerful ghost of all time, which means that anyone who defeats him will also gain that title. He is not Super Ghost as he is still struggling through his powers. And no, Christmas is not ruined (not sure it even existed yet...)

_Why is Danny human again? Are loopholes legal? And why isn't he a zombie-fied mess?  
_Check your lawbooks, kiddies. Loopholes are legal - Danny isn't all living, so he can have a part of his life given back. And he's not a zombie because he is only partially alive, meaning he can survive without needing to feast upon brains.

_How is it possible that Tuck has a PDA?  
_I thought I explained this. Twice. He's a genie. He has mystical magical powers that let him do nearly anything, including time travel. I can totally see him bringing one back and being all "Computers: The New Paper." Anachronisms make the world go round. Besides, look in the _Aladdin_ film (which is what this is based off of): Robin Williams uses TONS of anachronisms, so why can't I?

_By making Tucker, the black kid, the "slave" to Danny, the white kid, what exactly are you implying?  
_Race is not taken into consideration in my casting. I apologize if it offends, but I needed someone funny, someone who deals with humor on a regular basis, someone like Robin Williams, to play the Genie. Besides, I need it to be Tucker - he's like my favorite therefore he should get the best role. What, would you prefer it be Dash? Dash is not funny. Not funny at all. He would fail. So would everyone else. Even Jack (who's already kind of in this).

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Ektashafa_ - Arabic for "to discover"

_Tukupasya_ - African for "we are afraid"


	8. Dhakara

**A/N** I AM SO SORRY THAT IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I UPDATED LAST! There really is no excuse, but honestly, my life _has_ been rather hectic. Even the summer's been fille with stuff I have to take care of. But good news! I'm in college! Hurray! Which means that I won't have my parents telling me what I have to do every second that I'm home from school, which means I have more time to work on this. Also, I had lost the plot planning I'd done for the story for MONTHS and only just found it maybe a week ago saved to a very strange place on my computer. But anyway. I digress.

I am SO HAPPY that I finally pumped out another chapter for this. This really is my favorite thing to work on, though I warn you - my style isn't quite as lighthearted as it feels like it used to be. This is a somewhat angsty chapter, but the next chapter, I promise, will be much more fun. This one mostly looks at the fun backstories that no one seems to provide. I've tried to keep them in line with either the character from DP or just manipulate it to work with the story. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it. Any questions about what exactly was going on, feel free to email me. (I changed my email, so messages aren't going through. You can email me directly at if you'd like. Or comment. Either way.)

Whew! I'd like to thank all of the lovely people whoreviewed my last chapted oh so long ago, including YouHitMyHeart101, pearl84, AmethystOcean, bloodmoon13, Nylah, reader, Writer's-BlockDP, dragon of spirits, swiftwind, Dragonrule, Rocketeer, Nysk, Lunan, and Marcus S. Lazarus. It's probably too much to expect you all to still be reading or even still be on FFnet, but I would still like to thank you all. I really do appreciate every review I get, especially the nore detailed ones. So thank you. This chapter is dedicated to all of you.

**Disclaimer:** I own the clothes on my back. The rest is someone else's.

**Chapter Seven  
Dhakara**

In less than a day, Danny found himself with the potential to become the most powerful ghost in the world and with the ability to shift between the realm of the living and the dead. So, naturally, his power was sapped before he got halfway across the desert. He realized how weak he was at the moment and redirected his route for a small oasis, collapsing out of exhaustion as soon as he set himself down.

Tuck watched all of this as he trailed behind his new master, still connected to the lamp by the wisps of smoke where legs should have been. _Maybe this wasn't the best idea I've ever had_, he thought to himself as he watched Danny slip into unconsciousness. After all, it was bound to take its toll on the young ghost...boy...whatever this kid was now. _Maybe this was all pushing him past his physical limits too soon._

Why should he care? Well, Danny was already one of the more humane masters he'd been forced to serve. He was the first to refuse the official title of "master," the first to talk to him like he was an actual person. Which he was. Just not in the conventional way, not anymore. But genies, magical powers aside, were still sentient beings that could feel and think and be aware of what was going on around them. Most of his other masters had treated him little better than a dog, a pet that could perform for their amusement. _I hate not being human_, Tuck thought bitterly.

Then, as he always did when his train of thought got to this, he tried to look on the bright side of life. Right here, right now, was not hell. And for that, Tuck was happy.

Sighing, he took another quick look in his PDA. _Rules, rules, rules...why does a genie need so many rules? Why can't we just be all-powerful and be happy with it?_ At least he had a PDA and not ne of those stupid giant rulebooks. With a PDA there were games that he could play, so long as he kept the battery charged with his powers. And he could keep a sort of log of what he'd been up to in the past: the masters, the wishes, what did and didn't work. Oh, and he could also check the "additional" rules much more easily when he needed to have access to them.

The "additional" rules were those that a genie did not have to tell the master about immediately. Only once the subject came up, such as Danny's idea to wish for more wishes, did a genie have to explain. The Free Will article was what Tucker was currently looking at. There were certain things that genies could not do unless their masters wished it so; otherwise, the genie would implode or something equally harmful. For example, a genie could not transform the master into a non-sentient being. Non-sentient beings, as stated in subsection 4, paragraph 4, line 16, could not become a genie's master as they could not make wishes. This is different from the idea of a master wishing to be an animal because that entitles them to keep their own self-awareness. _I hate not being human_, Tuck thought with more conviction.

Anyway, he was trying to see what he could do if his master passed out on him like this. It was obviously not a conscious decision, nor a welcome one, so it was a toss. Looking caarefully, Tuck saw some adendum that led to an asterisk at the bottom. Rolling his eyes at the sheer complexity of the stupid genie rules, he scrolled down to the bottom of the page.

_A genie may, as stated in Subsection 12, Paragraph 2, lines 3-6, revive a master's unconscious state if there is evidence of the unconsciousness being involuntary, i.e. drug-induced._

"What?" Tuck asked aloud, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. _That doesn't even make any sense. What if the master was smoking pot and passed out? Is that 'involuntary'? I swear, someone really needs to rewrite these...They're like fifteen thousand years old_. Shrugging, he figured that loopholes just make his job easier. He held up his left hand and pushed his thumb and his middle finger together.

SNAP!

Danny's eyes flew open, glancing around his rapidly as he began to get to his feet. _What happened?_ he asked himself, rubbing the back of his very sore head. It felt like his entire body had just been doused in oil and set on fire. Not that he'd have died from it, but it still would have been very unpleasant.

He heard a sound very much like the clearing of a throat coming from behind him. Twisting around, he saw a guy about his age standing under the nearest tree. _Who's...oh, wait, I remember. That's Tuck. The genie._ His brain took a moment to process his thought. _THE GENIE!_

"You okay?" Tuck asked, reaching a hand up to grab at a coconut on the branches above him. He was about ten yards beneath it, yet he simply allowed his arm to stretch until it reached its destination. Danny blinked in surprise as he watched Tuck's arm skrink back to its original size. "You took a really bad fall back there, dude."

Nodding absently, Danny took a moment to clear his thoughts. He was still in pain, but it was subsiding quickly. He'd made it out of the cave...well, not alive, but more alive than when he'd gone in. He took a moment and concentrated hard before his body shifted from ghostly to human. He did this a few more times, each going more quickly than the last, before he was out of breath from the sheer physical exhaustion that the use of his powers brought on.

Tuck watched on as Danny over exerted himself. "You know," he commented, "that shift will likely get easier every time you do it. Expending less energy, giving you a faster change time, all that jazz. Practice makes perfect, but this may not be the best time...you look like you're gonna pass out again." Leaning up against the body of a palm tree, he closed his eyes and thought about time. How much of it had slipped by for him. Things he had lost to the ravages of time. It was quite depressing, but he couldn't get his mind off of it. That's how it always went, like it or not.

Danny simply lay there on the ground, the sun hot against his face, as he contemplated what would be the best thing to do next. _I know I don't have the energy to fly out of the desert yet...maybe I should just take an hour or so and just rest._ "Hey Tuck," he yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Tuck merely acknowledged this by opening one eye to look at the ghost-human hybrid. "Wake me up in an hour, will you?"

Grinning hollowly, Tuck asked, "Is that your second wish?"

"My second...no, no, I just want to sleep. Could you do me that as a favor?"

_A favor._ Tuck started, snapping to attention. This was the first time in a long time that he'd been _asked_ to do something. It was usually a demand, a wish, something he didn't have the option to say no to. This...this was a choice. The implications it held...with a shaky voice, Tuck replied, "S-sure. One hour." He didn't even need to say it, though. Danny had alwready closed his eyes and was sleeping soundly.

_A favor..._

Tuck's mind went to the past. Things that had happened. People he had met. Circumstances he wished could have been different.

_The chains he wore. The tasks he'd perform. The whippings and beatings he'd receive. Being a prisoner of war was rough, though he had it better than his elders. Most of them, including his father, were put to death. Sometimes he wished he could join them, though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to see them again or because he wanted out of the hellhole that his life had become._

_And one day, all of that changed._

_It was an innocent-looking lamp, one that his overlords had received as the spoils of one of the many wars their people launched. It was a dimaond in the rough, certainly, as it was a dingy lamp among the thousands of priceless gems and jewels that constituted the rest of the spoils of war. It was his task to polish everything until it shined like the morning sun._

_He was trying his best to complete the task slowly so he wouldn't have to move on to more horrible things, but quickly enough that he wouldn't be beaten for it. He went through the stacks of rubies and emeralds and gold and silver before he finally got to the dingy lamp. He could almost see his reflection in it underneath all of the grime. A face he had grown to hate. He was weak. Unable to fight back, to stand up for his people and himself. He was a coward._

_He didn't realize that, as he rubbed the lamp, furiously trying to scrub away the image of his face between the filth, another figure had entered the room. A girlish voice spoke, sounding annoyed, but, to him, they were the sounds of an angel._

_"What do you wish, master?"_

Shaking his head to clear away such memories, Tuck pounded an ethereal fist into the sand. He knew that things couldn't have been different...but he wished that they were.

- - - - - - -

In exactly one hour, Tuck, as promised, woke Danny up. Danny was feeling refreshed and recharged and, as such, grabbed hold of the lamp and flew through the desert. He knew, of course, that he couldn't go home, nor could he go to Masters' place. Not with the lamp and Tuck. So instead, he flew to the palace. The topmost spire was tall enough to see past the gbounds of the city and far into the desert on one side and the plains on the other. It was truly a beautiful view.

Nearly passing out as he reached the top again, Danny sat for a moment to catch his breath. It was more difficult to use his powers when he wasn't fully a ghost, which could present a problem. He would need to spend more time training if he wanted to overcome that obstacle, but it truly wasn't anything he didn't feel like he could do. He was scrawny; he could use some building up.

As soon as his breathing was normal again, he rubbed the lamp to summon Tuck. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, just looking at the view surrounding them. And then Tuck spoke.

"So what are you going to do with your next two wishes, Danny?"

"My next two wishes?" Danny had almost forgotten that he had two wishes left. After all, having his wishes granted was not something he was exactly used to. As such, he had no idea what to wish for. _I just know that I can't waste them_. "I have no idea. Do I have to make them soon? Is...is there a time limit or something that I should know about?"

Tuck shook his head, a rather amused look on his face. "Dude, you can take as long as you want. It's just that most people will make their wishes in three seconds. Money! Power! Women!" He accentuated each of those with a small "poof" of smoke from his hands. "Most people won't hang onto a genie for long."

"Hmm." Danny pondered for a minute. "Any suggestions?"

Tuck froze again. _He wants my opinion? _This wasn't the kind of question most people would ask a genie. Ever. "I'd say you oughta wish to look as handsome as yours truly, but even magic can't make you look _this _good." Chuckling at his own humor for a minute, he thought about the wishes he'd made in the past. And the consequences that came with them.

_Freedom. That was his first wish. Freedom for him and for his people, the freedom to live in their own land and be able to fight back if the "overlords" decided to try and conquer them again. It was a good wish, he thought. Selfless. Far-reaching. Even if it didn't bring his father and the rest of the elders back from the dead, he knew that he and his people would carry on the traditions of their elders and fight back against anyone who tried to threaten their way of life._

_Soon enough, they had rebuilt, replenished, restored their land and their people to what it once had been. The harvest was bountiful, the flooding was just enough to keep the plants watered, the people were at peace with themselves and other nations. Life was nearly perfect._

_And she...she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And almost completely untouchable. He kept himself from wishing too soon to keep her with him as long as he could. He'd rub her lamp once, twice, five times a day just to see her, to talk to her. Hours upon hours, he would talk to her, even if she didn't talk back. She was surly and resentful every time, but he didn't care. He was falling in love with her._

_In time, he cracked through a tiny part of her surly exterior. He saw the sadness behind her eyes. And he was desperate to fix it, to make her happy. So he talked, he joked, and he loved her, but nothing seemed to truly get through to her._

_And that's when he realized. She was, herself, a slave. No power to say no, no power to do anything but listen to him when he talked, no power to put her own morality toward the wishes she granted. She had all of the pwoer in the world...and was completely powerless._

"Seriously, Tuck, I can use all of the suggestions I can get."

Danny's comment shook Tuck out of his reverie. _No need to dwell on the past..._Grinning, Tuck turned to Danny. "Honestly, I have no idea. It all depends on your life, who you are, and what you want. Money, power, and women are all usually good places to start."

_Women_...Danny's thoughts turned to a girl who was likely far beneath him in the castle, maybe sleeping, maybe just waking up, maybe just getting dressed for the day..._Urk. No need to be thinking of that right now._ "Um. I think I'm just going to hold onto my other wishes for now. At least until I can come up with something I _know_ I want." They sat in silence a few minutes more, basking in each other's company while lost in thought. "Hey," Danny said suddenly, "how exactly did you become a genie? Were you born into geniehood or something?"

Tuck brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. "It's...a little more complicated than that."

"Well I'm interested, if you want to tell the story."

"Basically," Tuck sighed, "I was a prisoner of war. My masters found this lamp and I was assigned to clean it. So I did and out popped a genie." Stopping to laugh for a second, he commented, "We seem to do that a lot, heh." A small grin appeared on his face as he continued. "So I wished for my people's and my freedom. I held off on the second wish because..." He paused. Did he really want to share this with Danny? "...well, I couldn't decide what to wish for, I guess. So I just kind of lived it up with my people and I'd just kind of chat with her a few times a day, and she -"

"Wait," Danny interrupted. "Who is 'her'?"

Tuck blinked. "The genie."

"The genie was a girl?"

"Yes, genies aren't just one sex or the other, man. There are girl genies too."

"Huh. I just woulda thought they'd be called something different or something."

"Anyway," Tuck chuckled; Danny's train of thought was an interesting one to follow. "Getting back on topic. She wasn't happy; every time we talked, she would be all defensive." The grin disappeared as Tuck stared off into the sky. "I saw that she wasn't really free, what with the whole 'I must grant every wish that comes my way' thing that goes along with being a genie. So I...wished her free." He was leaving out the part where he'd confessed his love to her and kissed her, but that was his own business anyway. And it was the part that made him the most upset when remembering and thinking about the What Ifs, so he simply chose to skip that part.

Danny was slightly confused. "You wished her free and became a genie? How does that work?"

Sighing again, Tuck whipped out his PDA. "There are a lot of rules that genies have to follow. One is that the number of genies can never change. So when the lamp released her...it sucked me in."

"Oh." Danny thought about how that must have been like. Suddenly having so much power, but being sucked into confinement until someone else chose to let you out. _Damn...that's...that's awful._ "And what about her? What happened to her?"

"I...don't know." The wind started picking up a bit, rushing through Danny's and Tuck's clothes and nearly blowing Tuck's hat off of his head. "One of the rules is that any person who's had three wishes can _only _have three wishes. Right before I wished for her freedom, she said she'd used her three wishes already. One to live with eternal youth, one...well, I forget the second one, but the last one...was for incredible power. Her genie was spiteful and took the last one to mean that she wished to be a genie." _She always regretted her wishes..._Tuck looked to Danny, his eyes quite sad. "The next time I opened my eyes, there was the first of many masters demanding that I do as they say. I haven't seen her since."

"That's...Tuck, I'm sorry." Danny wasn't sure what he could do to comfort the genie, but he truly was sorry. He couldn't imagine going through all of that with someone just to lose them forever.

Tuck smiled an empty smile. "It's alright. She's still alive thanks to that first wish of hers. And I'd recognize her even after a thousand years." Shaking his head slightly, the smile became more real. "Any girls in your...afterlife?"

"One."

"...oh come on! I just tell you the tragic story of my life and you're not gonna share any details about yours?"

Chuckling, Danny decided to share. After all, Tuck was likely going to be his only companion for quite awhile. "There's this one girl, yeah. Her name is Sam and we spent some time together before I died. She...was the strangest girl I ever met, but she was incredible. Smart, interesting, funny..."

"Beautiful?"

"Gorgeous. Inside and out." Danny sighed. "She's...part of the reason I died. She's actually the princess, surprise surprise!, and she was running away. The guards thought I kidnapped her and...took my head." Danny rubbed the back of his neck, shuddering from the memories of seeing his head severed from his body. "So I couldn't really do anything about that while I was dead. And I was a thief! She's the princess! She's supposed to get with..."

Tuck looked to Danny as he trailed off. _Sounds like this guy's actually had it about as rough as I did in the love department. He's a ghost and I'm a genie for the women we love. Go figure._ "She's supposed to get with what?"

Furrowing his brows, Danny held up a finger, signalling to Tuck that he need a moment to think. _She's supposed to get with a..._"Tuck..." he said, some incredulousness in the inflection of his voice. "I think I know my second wish."

- - - - - - -

Sam was curled up in bed, her eyes open and staring absently at the ceiling, or what little she could see of it thrugh the gauzy violet netting above her bed. The last few days had been truluy been a nightmare. Three suitors had come and gone. Prince Dhanajit of Casper, a six foot eight monstrosity who spent the entire time talking about his piles and piles of money, the size of his castle, and the richness of the fabric he used to wipe his ass. Or so Sam heard. She drove him away with a well-placed "you must be overcompensating for something" line, which had him and his entourage leave in a huff.

The next suitor was Prince Melanchthon of Raven, who was unkind, rude, and altogether a pig. He tried to slip his hand up her thigh under the table as she and her parents dined with him, and he left the room with a rather nice bright right handprint on his face. Even her parents weren't too sad to see him go.

Prince Asita of Lancer was the last of the three. She'd actually not hated him entirely as he seemed to have a certain charm to him that did not escape her. Then she saw his attitude toward his servants after one of them, a young girl, spilled a drink in his lap accidentally. Before he could bring his fist down on the girl, Sam had already punched him hard in the gut and kicked him out.

_I miss Phantom_, she thought to herself for the umpteenth time. He was all she could think about when seeing these other men. All of them were judged based on him and how good she knew people could be and, really, should be. All of them fell far short of her respect for him. He, among his other qualities, was humble, respectful, kind, and sincere. None of the men she had seen as suitors could hold a candle to the thief she, and the world, had lost.

"Stop moping."

Sam turned to the doorway, where she saw Val leaning up against her doorframe looking rather nonchallant. Narrowing her eyes into a glare, she spat, "Why should I? I have plenty of reason to be unhappy, thank you very much."

Rolling her eyes, Val walked into the room and sat down on the floor in front of the bed. "Moping around here isn't going to do anything, _princess_. Harping on the death of your little thief isn't going to change the fact that he's dead."

Sam stared up at the ceiling again, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. _Does she have to say it like that?_ "And what do you know abouut losing someone close to you? About _grieving_?"

Val went quiet for a few minutes, her face etched with pain. Sam rolled her head to the side and was about to say something snarky when she saw Val's expression. Taking a deep breath, Val began, "My mother was killed when I was very little. A _thief_," she spat the word like it was red hot coal between her lips, "killed her for the necklace my mother wore around her neck, one my father had given to her. That's when I saw that thieves and murderers and other criminals needed to be put to justice." Her voice was flat, but held barely concealed anger and passion. "And I may not _be_ the law, but I can enforce it and the rules it represents."

"Rules..." Sam whispered, not sure how to respond. She'd never guessed that Val had a heart under that hard, cold exterior. "Sometimes, the rules need to be changed."

Val waited a moment, then shook her head. "I lost someone very close to me because of the rules I put around my life. They may not be perfect, but we are all beholden to them. And that's all there is to it." She glanced at the young girl laying on the bed with tired eyes that had seen more than they needed to in life. "Stop driving these suitors away," she said in a far harsher tone than before, picking herself up off the floor. "You _need_ to marry one of them. It's not an issue of if or why or anything like that. The rules say you do, so you do." Withthat, Val swept out of the room as suddenly as she'd swept in.

Sam thought for a moment about what Val had said. _I can see why she would want to support all of these laws like that...and why she has such a vendetta against thieves. But_, she thought with conviction, sitting up with her hands bracing behind her, _not everyone conforms to those rules, those stereotypes. And...I do have to wed one of these suitors...I know that...otherwise, _Vlad_ will rule. And I can't let that happen. I have a responsibility to my people. I can fight it, but it will come...to nothing._

_Maybe these rules are unchangeable_, she thought with some dread. _Maybe I just need to stop fighting and try to figure out how best to use them._

Her eyes widened. _I know how I can do that!_ She immediately took off, headed for the library for some much desired research.

- - - - - - -

**Translations:**

_Dhakara_ - Arabic for "to remember"

_Dhanajit _- Sanskrit for "wealth"

_Melanchthon_ - Greek for "black earth"

_Asita_ - Sanskrit for "tranquil, dark, blue, warm, hot"


End file.
